


Drag You to Hell

by danyforreal



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Demonic Possession, Demons, Guardian Angels, Heaven, Hell, M/M, Multi, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and rebirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23607907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danyforreal/pseuds/danyforreal
Summary: || Frank is a human and Gerard is his Guardian Demon. Ray is a Guardian Angel. Everyone is trying to kill him. ||
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	Drag You to Hell

CHAPTER 1 

Frank Iero didn’t expect to die today. Honestly he didn’t. But when his alarm, which had never failed to go off at precisely 7:05 each morning for the past year, rang at 7:15 a.m. instead, Frank knew something bad was bound to happen.

He blinked once, then rubbed his eyes and groaned. He’d had his morning routine down to the minute since he was a little boy. His skin started to itch in that way it did when circumstances were out of his control. Swallowing back the little wave of panic that was rising in his throat, he forced himself out of bed.

“Mom, you’re going to be late,” he shouted as he ran down the hall to the only bathroom in the tiny apartment. “The power went out for a few minutes last night or something. Put me back ten minutes.” Frank didn’t know why he bothered. Nothing he could say would make his mom do anything faster than she wanted to.

He scrambled to turn on the shower, the water almost instantly warm. “Small blessings,” he mumbled to himself, stepping into the soothing stream. The only problem with water this warm was that he never wanted to leave. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the stream turned icy and he shrieked. He poked his head out of the shower to see if his mom had flushed the toilet or something to turn the water cold. Seeing no one, he quickly scrubbed his hair and fled the shower in record time.

Stepping into the hallway, he noticed his mom’s bedroom door still shut. He sighed and pounded on his door. “Mom,” he called, “you can’t be late again. Your boss is only going to put up with so much shit.” His hand hovered over the door, but he heard no response from inside.

Returning to his room, he pulled his work uniform from the door and pulled the faded, yellow polyester shirt over his head. Already living paycheck to paycheck, his mother couldn’t afford to lose another job. As it was, he was bringing in most of the money they needed to survive.

He rushed to the kitchen, silently hoping the automatic coffee maker had brewed on schedule. He smiled when he smelled the familiar brew. At least something was going right this morning. The coffee, to his surprise was ready to go in a travel mug, milk and sugar already poured in.

Strange, he thought. Maybe his mom made it for him while he was in the shower. “Mom, are you home still?” he asked, hoping she’d already left for work. He was pretty sure her boss would die of shock if his mom actually arrived early to the construction site.

He checked the clock on the coffee maker. It flashed 7:45. He breathed a sigh of relief. He could catch the bus and still make his shift on time. He went to grab his bus pass and froze. His mom’s keys were still on the counter.

“Mom?” he called, now concerned.

He reached his room in five easy steps. “Mom, come on. I know you didn’t get home until late last night, but you have to get up.”

No response.

He pushed the door open expecting—well, he didn’t know what to expect. He’d seen his mom passed out on the floor after having a bit too much the night before. He’d seen her up and staring out the window with blank eyes, not moving or talking, just staring. He hoped she was just hung-over. That side of his mom he could deal with. 

That was something he could handle.

What he was not expecting to find was his mom lying flat on her back, hands by her sides, corpselike, eyes closed, not breathing. He was by her side in a second, shaking her frantically.

“Mom, what the fuck?” He leaned down to put his ear on her chest. She was still breathing, thank god. 

Suddenly, he heard laughter coming from the corner of the room.

Frank let out a yelp and squinted his eyes toward the voice. He couldn’t quite make out the shape. It looked like an out of focus photograph rather than a person. 

“Who’s there? What did you do to my mom?” he asked the voice shrill.

The laughter stopped abruptly, and the shape started to come into focus, revealing a young man with dark hair and pale skin. What caused Frank to begin trembling with fear were his eyes, shaped like a human’s but with oval irises like a cat’s and the darkest black in color.

“Wh-who are you?” he struggled to get out, trying to keep his composure. “What did you do to my mother?”

“You can see me?” the voice was casual, but laced with a hint of surprise. He stepped closer to Frank, and Frank could feel warmth coming off him like a heater.

Frank didn’t know what to do but he nodded anyway.

“And you can hear me?” the creature asked.

Frank nodded and stood to his feet, suddenly resolute. “I don’t know what you want,” he said, his voice sounding surprisingly confident, “but we don’t have any money. We don’t even have a TV. Just please leave us alone.”

“She’s not dead, you know,” the dark-haired thing said with a flippant gesture toward his mom. “I’m not allowed to kill you guys. I just needed to delay you this morning by a couple minutes. Had to make you late for work.”

Frank blinked at him. He slowly bent down and grabbed an empty beer bottle by his mom’s bed. He knocked it against the edge of the nightstand, trying to break it into ragged shards like he’d seen people do in action movies. It didn’t even crack.

“Here,” the stranger sighed, rolling his eyes. He grabbed the bottle from Frank’s hand. The creature’s hand brushed his, and Frank noticed his fingers were warm, too warm for the cool morning. The stranger smashed the bottle into the dresser and half of it shattered into what would be a nice, threatening weapon if it were in Frank’s hands. As if reading his thoughts, the stranger handed him the broken bottle. “There,” he said smugly. “Better?”

“Not really,” Frank said honestly. He inched back toward his mom, bottle raised halfheartedly as he became more and more sure it would do no good if this stranger decided to harm him.

“She’s in stasis,” the stranger explained glancing toward his mom. Frank stared back blankly. “It’s like what you guys call like a coma, I guess? But like frozen in time. No, not time. More like frozen between worlds. I don’t know. Something like that.” He waved his hand dismissively, like the details didn’t matter. 

“Well, can you, like, unfreeze her, please?” Frank snapped.

“Not with that attitude, sugar,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

Frank glared at him.

“Fine.” He sighed like Frank had just asked him to do an onerous task. “But wait about,” he looked at the clock on his mom’s nightstand, “ten minutes. That should be enough time.”

“Enough time for what?”

He looked at him closely as if debating whether or not to tell Frank. The stranger leaned against the dresser haphazardly. Frank took a moment to study his features, trying to read his face but avoiding his uncanny eyes. He looked young, around his age or a little older. His black hair sported looked shaggy and unwashed, occasionally curtaining his eyes. The way it waved slightly at the ends would have made him look adorable and innocent were it not for his eyes. He was dressed in tight jeans and a loose black t-shirt with a flaming skull on it, underneath a fitted black jacket. He wore knee high boots over his jeans which had just a little bit of a heel, making him several inches taller than Frank. He glanced back up to his face and took fleeting comfort in the symmetry of it. He had full but small lips and a pointed, straight nose. His skin looked soft, and Frank suddenly had the urge to reach out to touch it. He noticed the stranger was studying him as if he could read every expression that crossed his features.

Frank looked away, suddenly afraid in an entirely new way.

“Aw, screw it,” the stranger finally said. “You deserve to know. But first, coffee. Come on, I’m sure the cup I made for you is already getting cold.” He moved toward the bedroom door, but Frank remained resolutely by his mom’s side. The stranger rolled his eyes at him. “Come on,” he said.

Frank shook his head. “Not until you wake her up or unfreeze her or whatever.”

“Fine,” he said irritably. “I’ll remove the stasis from her, but she might have to sleep it off for a few hours.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Frank mumbled, and the man had the audacity to smirk at his as if he knew anything about his life. He glared.

Frank skittered away as the man moved toward the bed. As he placed his hand against his mother’s still chest, Frank visibly tensed. The stranger closed his eyes and whistled as if calling for a dog. “Come on, boy. Here, boy.”

“What are you—“

“Shh. You’ll scare him away.” Suddenly, a small smile twisted the corners of his mouth. “There you are, good boy. Come on out. Play time is over.”  
An unearthly shriek came from his mother’s chest. Ignoring the clammy feeling of revulsion that washed over him as he neared the stranger, Frank lunged forward trying to push him away from the bed. The stranger turned toward him sharply, and he gasped as he saw his eyes glowing completely red, as shining as traffic lights. “Stay back, Frank,” his voice was so low and so loud it rumbled the floorboards. Frank shuddered.

His mother’s chest suddenly surged forward and her eyes broke open with a start, staring and empty.

“A ha!” exclaimed the stranger by his side. “There you are, you little fucker.” He was suddenly addressing something that was apparently caught in his hands. Though Frank couldn’t see anything, he felt the room turn suddenly cold, and he found it hard to breathe as though he were suddenly in a high altitude. “Go back home, buddy,” the stranger said fondly to whatever invisible creature he imagined he held. “I don’t need you here anymore, okay? But you’ve been a good boy, Buddy. Yes you have,” he cooed as he twirled his fingers in what Frank assumed was a tickling motion. “That’s right. Off you go.” The stranger stood up from the bed. His eyes were back to the alarmingly black color, and his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

“See, good as new,” he said, gesturing toward Frank’s mom, and he stuck his hands deep in his pockets, leaning forward on the balls of his feet like a small child excited to show off his handiwork.

Frank put a tentative hand on his mom’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with the consistency of sleep. He smiled slightly as he heard his mother begin to snore familiarly as she always did after a night of heavy drinking. He looked up to see the stranger studying him, his face unnerving and unreadable. He tried to maintain steady eye contact with him, but couldn’t, not with the stranger’s eyes the way they were.

“All good?” the stranger smiled smugly as if sensing his discomfort.

Frank stared at him. No, everything was not good, and a thousand questions suddenly flooded his mind. His mouth flapped open and closed in what he could only assume was a very unattractive manner. He had no idea where to begin.

Instead he said, “Coffee.”

The stranger nodded, and held the door for him, bowing theatrically. He walked past him and watched as the stranger gently pulled the door shut to his sleeping mother’s room. As he stepped into the kitchen, Frank suddenly felt more alone than ever. He wished his mom were awake. She might have her share of problems, but she’d know how to handle this black-eyed madman.

The stranger sauntered into the room, doing a ridiculous little shimmy toward the coffee maker. Frank hopped up onto the counter and watched as the stranger reached into the cupboard, grabbing the coffee grounds without looking. He added water and set the coffee maker to brew.

He then leaned back against the opposite counter, tapping his fingers against the wood in an uneven rhythm. He never stood still, Frank noticed, but his eyes always remained fixed on Frank, expectant.

“Why—” Frank began. “I mean, how—did you know the coffee grounds were in that cupboard?” he asked pointing to the cupboard above the stranger’s head.

He stilled for the briefest moment before continuing to tap his fingers and smirked at Frank. “I know. I KNOW, you have a million questions to ask me,” he said. “That’s really the one you’re going with?”

Frank shrugged. “I want to know.”

“Of course you do,” he mumbled almost too quietly for Frank to hear. “Do you want me to tell you honestly?”

Frank nodded.

He looked at Frank as if searching his face for the truth of the nod. The coffee brewed loudly to a finish. The stranger sighed before grabbing two mugs from a different cupboard. “It’s the same reason I know where your mugs are and that this,” he held up a mug with a crudely painted ‘I love my mommy’ adorning the sides, “is your mom’s favorite, and she hasn’t used it once since your dad left three years ago.”

“Lucky guess,” Frank said. That itchy feeling when he didn’t have control over his life crawled across his skin, and he scratched his arms.

“I hate when you do that,” the stranger said quietly.

“Do what?” Frank asked, testing him more than questioning him.

“Never mind,” the stranger said, and Frank didn’t press him. The stranger returned his mom’s mug to the cupboard and pulled out another mug for himself.

There was a prolonged silence as he poured them both a cup of coffee, fixing his up with just the right amount of milk and sugar. He noticed he held the mug by the cup part rather than by the handle, and Frank wondered how he wasn’t getting burned. He handed the mug to Frank, handle side facing him.

Frank took the mug from him careful not to touch the stranger’s skin. He sipped the coffee, hating himself for sighing into the perfect beverage. The stranger stayed close to him, too close for Frank’s comfort, studying his face with uncanny, observant eyes.

“Who are you?” Frank asked slowly, lifting his gaze toward his.

“Name’s Gerard,” he said quickly.

“Ok. But. What are you?” Frank asked again, not daring himself to look into those black eyes.

Once again, the stranger’s lips tweaked into a smirk. “Now you’re asking the right questions, Frankie. However, first, what I really want to know is how you, my dear Frank, can see and hear me,” he said, looking at Frank like he were the strange creature. Frank felt uncomfortable, but there was also something so strangely familiar about Gerard. The canter of his voice and his uncanny eyes. It wasn’t like he’d ever seen Gerard before. Frank knew that, but it was like he’d always known him. The way Gerard looked at him was uncanny, like he knew everything about Frank. It unnerved him.

“What do you mean? I’m looking right at you,” Frank said.

“And I look like one of you? Like human, I mean?” Gerard asked, still staring at Frank, and Frank couldn’t remember seeing eyes so inhuman in his life.  
Frank swallowed heavily. “For the most part, yeah. What else would you look like?”

“You wouldn’t be alive if you saw me in my natural form,” he said, smiling almost sadly.

“Why’s that?” Frank asked, nervous about the answer he might receive.

“No need to worry your pretty little head about that,” Gerard said leaning toward him familiarly, almost flirtatiously, and Frank blushed despite himself. He took a sip of his coffee and hoped that would hide his flaming cheeks. The last thing he needed was for this madman to think he was affecting him in any way. 

“Your eyes though,” Frank said, needing to look away, “they’re not–like us. Not human, I mean.”

“Oh? Oh! I think I can fix that,” Gerard said. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, they looked normal, more human. Frank could see that they were still black, though not quite as dark as before, and they’d rounded from their catlike appearance to resemble the roundness of a human iris. “Better?” Gerard asked.

Frank nodded dumbly. “So, it’s like contacts, right? You’re wearing contacts?” Frank asked hopefully.

Gerard smiled slyly. “Sure, like contacts.”

“And that thing you did with my mom. That was like drugs or something, right?”

Gerard leaned against the counter next to Frank bracing himself with one arm, crowding Frank who was still perched on top of the surface. He reached to touch Frank’s thigh but stopped himself. Frank exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Yeah,” Gerard said, “like drugs or something.”

Frank nodded, feeling oddly calm despite what he was about to say. “You’re not human, are you?”

Gerard backed away and leaned against the opposite counter, fingers drumming a little rhythm. The corners of his mouth stretched in a wicked way. “Bingo, sugar,” he said condescendingly, and Frank couldn’t help but glare at him. Frank took a long sip of coffee and was somewhat glad to feel it scald his tongue.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Gerard confirmed.

“Yeah,” Frank said, his voice deadly calm. “But you need to leave right now.”

Gerard’s smile vanished and something close to hurt crossed his features for a brief moment. “I can’t do that, Frank.”

“No, you need to leave. I need to go to work and you need to leave my mom and me the fuck alone.” Frank was shaking, he could feel his skin prickling. “Because either you’re crazy or I’m hallucinating or both, but you need to leave, or… I’ll call the police.” Frank stepped toward Gerard and wrenched the mug from his hand. It was still scalding hot and it shattered to the floor. His hand shook, and he began scratching at his arm nervously.

“Frank,” Gerard said softly, stepping dangerously close to him, hand raised to stop Frank from hurting himself, but not quite touching him. Frank could feel the heat radiating off Gerard, warmer than before, and his eyes stared into Frank’s, ominous and commanding and powerful. “I hate it when you do that. Don’t. Hurt yourself,” he said. It wasn’t a request. It was a command.

Frank glared at him. “You need to leave.”

“No,” Gerard said firmly and stepped away. Frank froze, feeling the full force of fear that he’d been holding back since he’d first woken up late this morning. He suddenly realized how dangerous this situation really was, how much damage this stranger could do to him and his mom. He forced himself to look into Gerard’s black eyes, and he could almost see himself staring back, small and afraid, in their reflection. Though his black eyes still unnerved Frank, he took a small comfort in the fact that underneath Gerard’s confident exterior, he looked nervous, like this was a foreign experience for him as well.

“Why not?” Frank finally managed to say.

“Why do you think your work hasn’t called you yet, wondering where you are?” Gerard asked, speaking quickly like he was trying to deflect.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re nearly an hour late, and for you, who’s never been late a day in his life, that’s a big deal. So why hasn’t your boss called you, upset and concerned about your absence?”

Frank swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. Work hadn’t crossed his mind since he first saw his mother this morning.

“You should turn on the news, Frank.”

Frank didn’t know if it were his unnatural calm or the fallen coffee that was currently seeping into his sock, but he stopped scratching his arm and picked up the remote off the coffee table. Flicking it on, he found a local news broadcast. A young female reported held a microphone close to her face. She was saying something, but Frank couldn’t concentrate. All he saw was the scene unfolding behind her. It was the restaurant he worked at, up in flames.

He forced himself to listen to what she was saying. “We’re here live at the scene of the fire where apparently a gas line came loose and caught fire creating an explosion that reportedly injured four employees and two customers. I’m here with the owner of Patty’s. Sir, how are you feeling in this aftermath of this accident?”

Frank felt an arm ghosting against his lower back, leading him to sit down on the couch. He was faintly aware of Gerard sitting next to him, close but never touching. His boss appeared on screen, his face, normally kind, his eyes normally sparkling, looked tired and heartbroken. “It was no one’s fault,” he was saying, “just an accident like could happen to anyone. My thoughts go out to my employees and customers. I’m just so grateful no one was killed. It’s a miracle, really. These people are my family. They’re my family and,” his voice broke, “and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The reporter segued back to the head reporter who said, “We certainly wish the best for all those affected by the accident. Now to weather–” The TV shut off and Frank looked to see Gerard looking at him intently, biting at his lower lip with a concerned expression. “I should have been there,” Frank said. “I could have fucking helped. I could’ve–”

“You would have died. You were supposed to die,” Gerard said simply.

“You can’t know that.”

“Yes, I can, Frank. This day has been planned since before you were born. You were supposed to die today.” Gerard patted Frank on the shoulder, his touch burning through his work shirt. 

“There, there,” Gerard said awkwardly.

“You made me late for work.”

“I had to.”

“Are you, like, my guardian angel or something?” Frank asked, suddenly imagined Gerard with giant white wings. The image didn’t fit.

Suddenly Gerard was all bounce again, and he smiled at Frank. “Far from it. Saving people isn’t really my department. That’s Ray’s. Oh, he’s going to be very confused and very angry right about now.” He sounded way too happy about that. “Which reminds me,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the clock on the microwave, “he’s going to be dropping by here any second now, so we should probably skeddadle.” He hopped up off the couch and grabbed his mom’s keys off the counter top.

“And if I refuse to go with you?” Frank asked from the couch. He craned his neck to watch Gerard who stopped for a moment and looked closely at Frank.

“Oh, Frank,” he said in a patronizing tone that annoyed Frank immensely. His eyes were impossibly black. “I broke up your date with death. You belong to me now.”  
Frank shivered.

CHAPTER 2

It was cold outside. Like, really cold. Though bundled in layers of mismatched scarves, a hoodie, and his warmest jacket, Frank shivered and glared at the strange man next to him who strolled down the sidewalk in boots and dark jeans.

Frank had barely had time to grab a small backpack full of clothes, his laptop, a journal, and what little money he had before Gerard was shouting at him to hurry up because “Ray” apparently was coming for him.

“Maybe I want to meet this Ray,” Frank shouted right back at him. “Maybe he’s a better person than you.”

Gerard didn’t respond and Frank thought he’d just dropped it, until he saw Gerard suddenly standing in front of him, smiling wickedly. Frank swallowed and forced himself to avoid looking at Gerard’s distracting eyes. “Oh,” Gerard said, invading Frank’s personal bubble, something he had noticed was a common practice of his. “Ray is definitely a better person than me, but then again, pretty much everyone is a better person than me.” He sounded happy about that, like Frank had paid him a compliment.

Frank side stepped away from him, annoyed that he’d been slightly affected by the dark-eyed man’s proximity to him. It was stress, he told himself. Stress makes you feel crazy things.

Before they left, Frank had stopped in his mother’s room to check on her. She was still sleeping soundly, and Frank tucked a note by her pillow letting her know that everything was ok, he was just staying at a friend’s house for the night. He took one last look at his mother. She looked older, Frank noticed. The wrinkled lines which had once danced around the laughing corners of her eyes were now deepened into worried lines around her forehead and mouth.

“Bye, Mom,” he whispered before leaving, wondering when he’d see his mom again. Strangely hoping that he would. For all the trouble they’d had, Frank knew his mom loved him.

Frank turned toward the door to see Gerard leaning against the threshold, staring at him, a mysterious, unreadable expression on his face. He met Frank’s eyes for a brief moment before shaking himself and saying, “You ready yet? You take forever to get ready, you know?” Frank could have sworn he heard Gerard quietly say, “You always have,” but he was tired and distressed so it could have been his imagination playing tricks on him.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Frank said.

Now they were walking down the sidewalk away from the apartment building toward fuck-knew-where? Frank was cold and pissed that Gerard had yet to explain where they were going. That and he really needed coffee since his had spilled his on the kitchen floor of his apartment. Yeah, that wouldn’t look suspicious to his mom at all, he thought to himself.

“Aren’t you cold?” Frank asked him, knowing he wouldn’t tell him where they were going but wanting to break the silence anyway.

“What do you think?” Gerard said, smirking. He put his hand close to Frank’s chest, not quite touching. Even through his many layers, Frank could feel the warmth from him. It felt good in the icy weather. Really good, and Frank unconsciously leaned forward into the touch. Gerard wrenched his hand away from Frank, looking alarmed. 

“You shouldn’t—I mean, I don’t know if you should touch me. Last time—Never mind. Let’s just keep going.”

“What do you mean, last time?” Frank asked, but Gerard had already begun to walk forward, and though the strange man’s legs were short, he walked with such an energetic bounce that he was already several lengths in front of Frank.

“God, you’re so slow, Frank,” Gerard called, but Frank resolutely kept his slower pace just to annoy him.

They walked along in silence, Gerard occasionally turning down a small alleyway to hop a fence as if afraid someone were following their trail. Frank began to tire, and he regretted not giving a shit about joining any sports for the last few years of high school. Gerard, he noticed bitterly, was going strong like the fucking Energizer bunny or something. He checked his watch. It was already almost one o’clock, and he recognized the rumble of his stomach.

“Oh, fuck,” Gerard suddenly said, stopping to look at Frank. “I forgot you guys get like hungry and tired. Umm.” He looked lost as to what he was supposed to do for mere mortals like Frank.

Frank looked around and was disappointed to find he didn’t recognize the area they were in. He rarely took the time to explore the city outside taking the bus to school and work. He saw a gas station a block down the street. “Maybe we could grab some food from up there?” he suggested.

“Ok, yeah,” Gerard said.

They walked in silence to the gas station. Stepping inside, Frank noticed the lights flickering when Gerard stepped over the threshold. “We got a religious one here,” Gerard said, smiling, his eyes darkening even more somehow. Frank didn’t comment. He looked at the gas station attendant, an elderly woman with a cross pendant around her neck. She nodded to Frank kindly.

After picking out a bag of chips, a questionable looking pre-packaged veggie sandwich, and a bottle of soda, Frank stepped up to the counter to pay. “Do you, uh, want anything?” he asked Gerard.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, sweetie?” asked the gas station attendant.

“I was just asking my friend if he wanted anything,” Frank explained to the clearly hard-of-hearing elderly woman.

Gerard was smiling, wide and wicked, next to Frank. “So you are the only one who can see or hear me. I was beginning to wonder.”

“Your ‘friend’, of course, sweetie,” the woman said, looking worriedly at Frank.

“No, it’s not that, I just,” Frank saw Gerard slowly lift a packet of gum from the counter and slip it into his pocket, winking at Frank. “Don’t do that,” Frank hissed at him. The woman continued to stare.

Gerard ignored him, and hopped up behind the counter, rustling the postcard display.

“Oh, that draft again,” said the old woman, clearly trying to hurry Frank along. Frank watched as Gerard approached the woman and whispered something in her ear, all while staring at Frank across the counter. His eyes were once again cat-like and midnight black. Frank glared at him, hoping his expression communicated something akin to, “Don’t you dare hurt her. She’s a nice lady.”

“Relax, ‘sweetie,’” Gerard said, perfectly mimicking the voice of the old woman, and Frank shivered uncomfortably. “I couldn’t hurt her even if I wanted to. I’m just planting a little doubt in her about her precious faith, because a demon’s gotta’ eat, too, doesn’t he? And I’m getting some of these.” He reached behind the old woman who was staring blankly forward with glassy eyes and pulled out two packs of cigarettes and a lighter. “I’d offer you some, but I know you don’t smoke.”

Gerard hopped back over the counter, and stepped outside the door. As if on cue, the lights stopped flickering and the woman shook herself back to reality. A single tear slipped down her cheek. “Oh, dear,” she said, swiping at her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just being a silly, old woman, I suppose. I’m sorry, sweetie. Here, let me ring you up.”

Frank quickly paid for his food, and before he left, he reached across the counter and touched her hand. “Hey, it’s going to be all right,” he told her. He wished he could tell himself the same.

Her eyes shot up toward Frank’s, and they were suddenly hard and tortured. “Why would God take him from me?” she cried. “He was a good boy, and God just snatched him from my hands. Why would he do that?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I’m so sorry.” Frank didn’t know what to do or say. The woman was in hysterics, and Frank hated himself for grabbing his bag off the counter and rushing toward the door.

Gerard was leaning against the side of the building, casually smoking a cigarette. His eyes had turned round and less dark but still so far from human.

“Hello, sweetie.”

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Frank practically shouted, reaching out to push Gerard off his feet. Gerard backed away smoothly before Frank even got close.

“I’m a demon. It’s what I do. Besides, it’s not like I hurt her.”

“But you did, Gerard. You hurt her more than if you’d slapped her. You fucking tore her life apart with a couple words.” Frank was breathing heavily.

“It’s what I do, Frankie,” he repeated, explaining rather than apologizing.

“As a demon?”

“I don’t know how to be anything else,” Gerard said with what could have been regret had Frank not known better.

Frank felt suddenly very tired, and he slunk down against the side of the gas station. He opened his soda and took a long sip. The carbonation tingled down his throat and calmed him. Gerard was staring at him intently, clearly waiting for Frank to say something.

“You don’t eat?” Frank asked.

Gerard shook his head. “Demon’s subsist on human auras. What you call ‘good people’ have the brightest auras which means they have the farthest to fall. But it’s no fun anymore, Frank–” he stopped to slide down next to Frank, looking like a kicked puppy. “It takes so little to tear a person apart nowadays. There’re so few really good people left in the world. And those who are, like that lady in there, are no fun to tear down. It’s just too fucking easy, you know?” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Frank should have been disturbed, should have run as far from this demon as he could, really he should have, but he just nodded back at Gerard, watching him as he brought the cigarette up to his lips. Maybe he was numb from cold or maybe he was still dreaming, but Frank decided to accept what Gerard said as truth.

“What does my aura look like?” asked Frank before he could stop himself. He instantly regretted his words.

Gerard stopped smoking and stubbed the cigarette butt into his palm, smiling as it left a black scorch mark before disappearing back to skin color. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly, and it was the most honest he’s ever sounded. Frank felt his cheeks flare as Gerard’s black eyes burned into his. Finally he looked away, cleared his throat, and said, “Unfortunately, that means there are a lot of other demons and a few angels that are going to try to get to you now you’re unmarked. You’re hot stuff in the underworld, let me tell you.”

“Unmarked? What does that mean?” Frank asked.

“You were supposed to die this morning, Frankie,” Gerard said, and Frank both loved and hated the familiarity with which Gerard uttered the nickname. “No one ever misses their appointment with death. Your guardian angel makes sure of that. And because I stopped it from happening, you don’t belong to heaven or hell anymore. You’re unmarked until someone claims you.”

“Why did you save me?” Frank asked.

“I didn’t save you. I merely stopped you from dying,” Gerard was quick to answer, defensive in tone.

“Well, then, why did you stop me from dying?” Frank watched Gerard’s face closely. He hated that he couldn’t read his expressions. What was he thinking? What did he want with him? Gerard licked his lips and shook his head.

“I can’t tell you that.” Gerard scuffed his boots against the concrete. “But I can tell you that Ray is coming to collect on your soul, and he’ll try to do it soon to avoid losing his job.”

“That means he’s trying to kill me? Isn’t he supposed to protect me, like a normal guardian angel?”

“Yeah, up until the moment you die. He’s there to make sure you’re protected from everything that might kill you right up until that moment. Plus, I’m sure he’s anxious to finish up with your case because he’s long-due for a vacation. Poor Ray’s been in this shithole for almost six hundred years mostly because he sucks at being a guardian angel,” Gerard laughed almost fondly. “Fortunately for you, he’s a terrible tracker, so we have some time before he catches up with us.”

“Oh joy,” said Frank dryly. He was quite proud of himself for how well he was handling everything thus far. He imagined later he’d start to panic, but for now, he was ready to keep trecking. He stood up from the ground and dusted off his jeans. The sun had begun to peek through the clouds, and it energized him if only a bit. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you’ll tell me where we’re going?”

Gerard bounced up shaking his head back and forth. “The less you know the better in case Ray can still read your intentions.”

“Read my intentions?” Frank asked.

“Guardian angels can’t read your thoughts, but they can tell what you intend to do. Makes it easier for them to stop you stupid people from doing all the stupid shit you do everyday that almost gets you killed—no offence,” he tacked on.

“None taken,” said Frank. He couldn’t really disagree with Gerard’s sentiment. In his eighteen years of experience he’d pretty much come up with the same conclusion: stupid people on this planet doing stupid shit every day of their lives, him most of all.

They walked further until they reached the edge of a bank of trees. Dusk was setting when Frank began to feel his phone vibrating in his backpack nearly incessantly. Was it his mom, or maybe his uncle or maybe his boss, calling to see why the hell he didn’t show up for work today? A wave of anxiety crawled across his skin, and he unconsciously reached to scratch his arm in a nervous gesture he’d had since childhood. His short nails dug deep into his skin until he felt them break the skin.

Gerard stopped suddenly and turned toward Frank as if he’d felt the pain himself. “Fuck, Frankie, why?” He was standing close in front of him, his hand reaching toward Frank’s arm but stopped himself from touching his bare skin. Frank looked to see Gerard’s eyes were slitted and predatory. “You know Ray can track you easier if he knows you’re injured. His guardian instincts will kick in, and he’ll be here in minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, looking away from Gerard, suddenly feeling like a small child once again.

“You can’t do this again.” It was a command, and Frank could feel it in his soul. There was no way he could say no, and that both frightened and calmed him. He nodded his head both voluntarily and against his will.

Gerard looked satisfied with this and started walking again. Frank hurried after him, Several times, he tried to reach up to scratch his arm but was compelled to stop. Gerard had said that he “belonged to him,” but Frank hadn’t thought about what exactly that meant. If Gerard could control his impulse to scratch his arm, what else could he control? He wondered if Gerard could do to him what he’d done to the poor gas station attendant. Remember again what had happened at the gas station, Frank glared at Gerard’s form in front of him, currently hurling himself off a log onto a nearby rock. How could this ridiculous creature be a demon capable of ruining an innocent woman’s life with just a few words?

They reached a clearing in the woods, and despite the growing darkness, Frank could make out a small cabin resting in the center.

“What is this place?” Frank asked.

“It’s home for now; that’s all you need to know for now.”

Frank glared at his back.

Inside the cabin was—cozy, surprisingly so. It contained one bedroom and bathroom, a small kitchen, and a living room sporting a lumpy looking couch and even an old television set resting atop a small stand. It looked comfortable, lived in.

“Whose house was this?” Frank asked.

Gerard looked at him slowly as if deciding how much to tell him. He shrugged. “A hunter who died in a freak accident a few months back.”

“Accident?” Frank asked.

“Truly!” Gerard replied, smiling sincerely. “Anyway, there’s food in the kitchen, I’m assuming. You’re taking the bedroom so I can watch to make sure no monsters come to eat you during the night.” He made spooky hand motions toward Frank’s face. He went to swat them away, but Gerard recoiled. “Be careful,” he warned, his voice suddenly low.

“Or what? You’ll be the monster that comes to eat me in the night?” Frank said, teasing, but seeing the dark, almost pained expression that appeared in Gerard’s eyes, he lowered his eyes, and suddenly had the ridiculous urge to apologize.

Gerard moved away from Frank as if not trusting himself to stand so close to him. “I’m going to take a shower, so you can make yourself food or whatever.”

“Demon’s shower?” Frank asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Only the sexy ones,” he said and shook his ass theatrically as he headed into the bathroom.

That shouldn’t be attractive. Fucking demon, Frank thought to himself. He removed the scarf from his neck, and took off his outer layer, careful not to smear the blood on his scratched arm.

He heard the shower start and the image of Gerard stripping off his tight shirt and pants, stepping into the hot shower, and slowly washing his body entered Frank’s mind unwillingly. He could almost hear Gerard chuckling in his head. And oh my god, he was not going to do this right now.

Frank shook his head and searched the cupboards, finding an assortment of canned food items and, god-be-praised, a tin of instant coffee. He set about warming some canned ravioli on the gas stove, while he boiled water for the coffee. Once it was done, he sat on the couch and ate greedily, wondering how it was he had such an appetite after all the weird shit that had gone down today. He took a sip of his coffee and winced. It was terrible, but it was warm and strong, and Frank would take what he could get.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Frank tried not to look. “Goddamn,” Gerard said loudly, “that felt so fucking good. You should try it, Frankie. You might like it.” He walked in front of Frank, a low slung towel hanging off his soft hips.

Frank swallowed a sip of bitter coffee. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Gerard shrugged and headed to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Frank let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He forced himself to breathe in and out and think of unsexy things like the fact that Gerard was a fucking demon, and he shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

Frank took a moment to pull his phone from his backpack. 14 missed calls. He checked to see that ten were from his mom, two from his uncle, and two from his manager at work. He couldn’t bring himself to listen to the voicemails, so he shut his phone and sighed into his coffee.

He felt, more than saw, Gerard sit down on the couch next to him. “What’s the plan?” Frank asked him.

“I can’t tell you that.”

Frank sighed again. “I figured.” He turned to look at Gerard, his head lolling against the back of the couch. Gerard was fidgeting, drumming a beat against his thigh, looking around the room, and humming to himself. He was clothed in a ridiculous set of ducky pajamas and a loose, grey t-shirt. He smelled good, really good, and he felt warm, really warm. Frank was so tired and so cold. His head felt fuzzy, and he shifted closer to Gerard unconsciously. Gerard stilled perceptibly.

“Frank,” he warned. Frank wanted himself to stop and back away, but he felt himself continue to shift closer to the demon. Gerard gazed back at him with narrowed eyes. Suddenly, Gerard jumped up and ran a shaky hand through his hair, “Jesus, Frank, fuck. I’m so sorry, I think I was projecting on you, and look at your face, you have no idea what that even means.” This was the first time Gerard had really apologized for anything and Frank felt confused. 

Frank’s head was suddenly crystal clear. He still wanted to touch Gerard, but it was all his own urges this time. He wondered if he repulsed Gerard. Why else would he be afraid to touch him? He’d said that Frank’s aura was beautiful, but Frank also knew that demons didn’t usually look like humans, and therefore, Gerard probably wasn’t even attracted to his species, let alone him, an awkward, skinny eighteen year old kid. Frank hung his head. He really was just so tired.

“I think you should go to bed,” Gerard said, and Frank nodded, too tired to argue. He set his coffee cup down on the table and headed toward the bedroom. He pulled a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his backpack and changed as quickly as he could. The bedroom was small, smaller than the one in his apartment back home, but the bed was a full sized and looked comfortable enough. He slid under the covers and sighed at how good it felt.

Somewhere between waking and sleeping, he felt another presence enter the room and perch himself on the chair next to his bed. In his dream, Frank fell from heaven and saw black wings falling, falling after him, enclosing him in their warmth and a voice that whispered, “I’ve always protected you. I’ll never stop.”

CHAPTER 3

Frank awoke the next morning to see sun streaming in through the cabin window. He kept his eyes closed and stretched widely. The light warmed him, and it was bright, really bright, he could tell even through his closed lids. The morning air was still cool, and he scooted across the bed to position himself directly underneath the beam of sunlight. His trek to the other side of the bed was blocked, however, by something solid, lying on the bed next to him.

Frank’s eyes flew open, and he saw the brightest light he’d ever beheld, radiant and pristine and wonderful. It felt almost tangible. Frank couldn’t help but smile though he couldn’t fathom why. The light was comforting and peaceful at the same time. He stared at the light until it began to dim, and a face that was both totally unknown and strangely familiar appeared on the pillow next to Frank.

Frank took a moment to look at him before hurling himself backward off the edge of the bed, flailing onto the floor in a pile of blankets and long limbs. He looked around the room for Gerard, but didn’t see the demon. Instead, in his place was a face that was strange but… Comforting? And so, so kind. His dark curly hair spread around the pillow like a halo and even seemed to glow a little at the tips. He had an other-worldly essence about him, but, unlike Gerard, he emanated a radiance that couldn’t possibly come from a human. 

“Gerard’s trying to make you breakfast or something,” said the light being as if reading his mind. “I wouldn’t count on any of it being edible though. Fucker never did understand basic human needs.”

Frank cleared his throat. “You’re—you’re Ray, aren’t you?” he said as confidently as he could despite the panic welling inside him.

The light-being stretched his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling in a relaxed pose. “That hurts, Frank, it really does,” Ray said in a wounded tone. “Not even recognizing your own guardian angel. I’ve saved your sorry ass more times than any other charge I’ve ever had. And not even a note of thanks.”

“But you’re here to kill me.” It wasn’t a question.

Ray turned his head toward Frank, his expression unreadable, but his eyes soft. “You know, I’ll almost miss watching out for you. Life with you as my charge has certainly never been boring. But,” he sighed dramatically, “I’m five hundred years overdue for a vacation to Heaven, and you’re the only thing keeping me out at the moment. So yeah, I guess I’m here to kill you.”

Frank forced himself to breath in and out to calm himself. Ok, so he was going to die. He was supposed to die yesterday, but that didn’t work out so well, so he’d die today. No big deal. He’d had a pretty shitty life so far, so what did he have to lose? No boyfriend, only a handful of quasi friends, and a few bullies at school. He could leave all that behind, no problem.

He thought of his mom. She’s never really recovered from when Frank’s dad left. Frank knew she’d only get worse if he was gone. Who knows, though? Maybe her life would improve without him there. Maybe everyone’s life would improve. He tried to trample that train of thought before it started.

“Don’t start to freak out on me yet,” Ray said from the bed, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. “I can’t kill you right now.”

Frank’s head shot up. “Why not?”

Ray sighed and sat up cross-legged on the bed. He patted the seat in front of him. Frank felt like he had no choice but to haul himself up and join the angel. 

“So,” Ray began in a conversational tone, “your whole life, you’ve belonged to heaven, right? You were marked from birth as one of the ‘goodies’ as Gerard calls them. I marked you myself! you were a cute kid, and not so bad now either,” Ray winked at him more fondly than flirtatiously. “But, when good old Gerard over there decided to stop you from making your appointment yesterday, he marked you for hell, at least until I can fix the paperwork and get you a new appointment for heaven again.”  
Frank stared at Ray blankly.

“Think of it like this,” Ray further explained, “Heaven is like an office where there’s a bunch of managers, in this case, my manager’s name is Mikey. They are given charge over the fate of a few thousand human lives. They decide when you people will die and how. They write the date and time in stone and it is saved forever. Nothing can change it, because, we, the guardian angels make sure you guys don’t kill yourselves or something before that date.”

“Ok, so I missed my appointment,” Frank said, proud of himself for being so calm about all this. “You said I can get a second chance.”

“Yeah, you do eventually, but to make a new appointment could take months, like it does with any kind of paperwork, and until then, you are marked for Hell, which means you’re under Gerard’s care for now.”

“So he’s going to kill me?” Frank was confused. If Gerard had marked him for Hell why hadn’t he taken him there yet? What was his plan?

“I dunno. He wants you for something, and because he didn’t technically break any heavenly laws by making you late for work, I can’t stop him from whatever he’s planning. I’m sorry, Frank. I really wish I could help you.” And Ray did look genuinely saddened.

“For your sake,” Ray said, very serious suddenly, “I hope he holds on to you here on earth.” His soft brown eyes held Frank’s sadly. “If Gerard takes you to Hell, he won’t be able to protect you from the other demons. With an aura like yours, your soul will be consumed in seconds.”

Frank shivered and rubbed his arms, and it had nothing to do with the cool morning air. Ray reached out a hand and touched Frank’s cheek affectionately. Frank leaned into the touch and felt energy and light flow through him like a balm.

“Thank you,” Frank said. “For being honest with me. And for, you know, protecting me.”

Ray laughed, full and hearty, and Frank felt instantly better. “You have no idea how hard it’s been. Fuck, man, you’re such a mess.”

Frank didn’t have the energy to feel offended, and he couldn’t really disagree with Ray anyway. He’d always been accident prone. Somehow, he found a way to hurt himself every damn day.

“Thank God Gerard was there to help me out,” Ray said, sliding his bare feet onto the floor beside the bed.

Frank moved to stand up, but stopped short. “Gerard was there, too? Watching me, I mean. For how long?”

Ray looked at Frank closely as if debating how much he should tell him. “Gerard and I go way back,” he said simply, not really answering Frank’s question. “Come on, you need to eat.”

As if on cue, Frank’s stomach growled, and he wondered if maybe Ray knew him better than he knew himself.

Stepping into the living room/kitchen area, the first thing Frank noticed was smoke, lots of smoke and what smelled like burnt—well, burnt everything.

“I feel like I’m doing something wrong here,” Gerard called out from beside the stove. Frank coughed and waved at the smoke in front of his eyes. “I’ve seen you ‘goodies’ eat thousands of times, but I never knew it’d be this difficult to cook you fuckers a fucking meal.”

He appeared from the kitchen, dark hair falling into his black eyes, and wearing a black t-shirt and tight jeans. He looked good, really good, and Frank distracted himself by hastening to the kitchen to salvage some food for himself. Just because demons (and angels probably) didn’t have to eat, didn’t mean that Frank had to starve.

He saw what was once an egg in a skillet, now more like a shriveled yolk, and a piece of toast, half burnt and half undercooked. How did he even manage that? Frank thought to himself. He looked in the refrigerator. Surprisingly, there was a carton of soy milk in there that looked relatively recent, and he took a sniff to see if it was still good. It was. He looked into the pantry and found a box of Raisin Bran.

Cereal it is, he decided.

He saw that there was a cup of coffee set out for him on the table already. Frank grabbed a bowl and spoon and sat at the table. He took a deep sniff of his coffee. It smelled amazing.

“Where did you get this?” Frank asked, taking a slow, almost orgasmic, sip of the rich brew. Gerard was bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly pleased with himself.

“I have my ways,” he said happily.

He was a morning person, Frank thought bitterly. Who knew demons could be morning people?

Gerard chuckled and walked up behind Ray, smacking him on the ass before smiling cheekily. Frank rolled his eyes at them, his spoon halfway to his mouth. Fuckin’ supernatural beings, man. 

Frank cleared his throat. Ray and Gerard turned to look at him curiously. “What’s the plan, guys?” Frank asked, emboldened. “I feel like I deserve to know.”

“You do,” Gerard said. 

Gerard’s eyes darted to Ray, uncertainty written across his features. Ray placed a hand on Gerard’s cheek and looked into his eyes, an unspoken conversation clearly passing between them. Frank felt stupidly jealous and left out, even though he knew it was irrational. He’d known them both for, what, a day? They’d known each other for centuries. 

And he felt lonely, so fucking lonely. He had no one and no one was missing him and no one would once he was dead. A feeling of hopelessness and helplessness washed over him, unwelcome. He started to scratch at his arm. He wondered if they noticed the tear slipping down his face, even though he hurried to wipe it away. 

They had. Of course they had. They knew everything about him.

Ray’s expression turned surprisingly dark as he let go of Gerard’s face. “You are making him feel this way, asshole. Get yourself under control or I will.” Gerard looked downright sheepish as he moved to the far side of the kitchen and hopped up onto the counter.

“It’s not like I’m trying to. It’s his fucking aura.” He waved his hand in Frank’s general direction, and his gaze settled on Frank, looking on the edge of predatory. Frank couldn’t look away. He suddenly had the urge to be closer to Gerard, almost like he was being pulled toward him. Frank licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. Ray cleared his throat loudly. Gerard shook his head as if to clear it, and he looked away. 

The feeling of hopelessness passed, and Frank went back to feeling just the normal amount of anxiety now. Great. 

Ray came over to the table where Frank was eating and sat down next to him. 

“I want to tell you what’s going on. I want to tell you everything, but for now, you have to trust me.” Ray touched Frank’s cheek, and Frank immediately felt so calm. 

“You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m going to be fine,” Frank repeated, somewhat dreamily. 

“I know everything about you, Frank. I have been watching over you since you were born. Please know that I have nothing but your best interest at heart. I would never let anything bad happen to you.” He looked pointedly at Gerard, who rolled his eyes and flipped him off. 

“You know, I have your best interest at heart, too,” Gerard said, sauntering over to sit at the table, across from Frank and Ray. “I mean, if I had a heart, I totally would have your best interest in it. But as it is, I’m rather fond of you, kid. I’m not going to hurt you, I promised you that, and I don’t take my promises lightly.”  
Ray snorted and glared at Gerard. “Not going to hurt him? Your plan is to fucking drag him t–” 

Gerard’s eyes turned harshly toward Ray, dark slits that made Frank shiver. In a not completely unpleasant way, which irked Frank immensely. 

Ray put his hands up defensively and said, “Fine, you’re right. Fair is fair. We won’t tell him anything as per the agreement.” Ray leaned forward to kiss Frank’s forehead.   
Frank leaned into the touch and reached his hands to cup Ray’s face. Ray smiled and Frank relaxed visibly.

When Ray broke the contact, Frank felt a little less calm, and when he looked over at Gerard, that sense of dread bloomed in the pit of his stomach once more. But he still felt compelled to go to him, and he gripped the table to keep from getting out of his seat. 

“Fucking fine, you guys.” And suddenly he was irritable again. God, his mood swings were something straight out of a soap opera that his mom used to watch. Content one second, and then horny, and then angry. He was tired of it, and he had a feeling that this whole ordeal had barely begun. 

It wasn’t even that he wanted to know what was going to happen to him. At this point in his fucked up life, Frank was okay with not knowing any more about himself and whatever heavenly or demonic force was controlling his life. He missed the simple days when he was blissfully unaware that two very attractive celestial beings had been watching his every move since his birth.

Oh, god, Frank suddenly thought about all they’d seen. They’d seen him shower and pee and masturbate. And since it looked like Frank was destined for either heaven or hell in just a few short months, he figured he was probably also “destined” to die a virgin, and they fucking knew that, too.

He put his dishes in the sink, and walked toward the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced to the supernatural beings currently having a stare-off at the table.

Ray started to walk toward him before stopping himself. “I guess, you’ll be okay on your own.”

Frank nodded, blushing furiously. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He quickly stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower. It warmed quickly for which Frank was grateful. He stripped off his clothes and thought of every other time he’d done this. Who’d been watching him? Gerard or Ray? Neither or maybe even both? 

He thought about the fact that this might be the first time he’s ever taken a shower without someone standing outside, making sure he didn’t slip on the tiles of impale himself with a razor. This was the first time he’d had… privacy. Even if he handn’t known he hadn’t had privacy. And this was the first time, he thought to himself, that no one would know if he—he reached down his hand to stoke himself as quietly as he could.

It felt good. Grounding even as he leaned with one hand against the wall of the shower. Unbidden, he thought about Gerard and the way his eyes had bored into him, possessive and fierce. An image entered Frank’s mind of enormous black wings sprouting from Gerard’s back and encircling Frank in their warmth and security, and he came hard and hot over his hand before he could comprehend what was happening.

The shower came back into focus as he rinsed off his hand and finished showering. He was proud of himself for keeping quiet, but he figured he couldn’t really hide anything from them anyway. The thought both terrified and comforted him.

Realizing he’d left his clothes in the bedroom, he gathered his pajamas and wrapped a towel tightly around his waist before entering the living area to get to the bedroom. He saw Ray sitting on the couch while Gerard was pacing anxiously back and forth in front of him. The demon’s eyes met Frank’s, and he saw that they were slitted and midnight black. He had a pained expression on his face, his body language tense.

“Fuck you, Frank,” he spat out irritably, taking several steps toward him. “At least I’m trying to control myself.”

“Gerard,” Ray hissed warningly. “He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.” He stood from the couch to put a hand on Gerard’s chest. Out of the angel’s hand came a beam of light that seemed to rush through Gerard’s body and calm him.

Gerard stared at Ray for a long moment with an unreadable expression before he slumped onto the couch and waved a hand at Frank, saying, “I’m sorry, Frank. It’s not your fault. Go get dressed, ok?”

Gerard’s tone reminded him of the tone his parents used to use when Frank came downstairs in the middle of the night to find them arguing again. “Go get a cookie and go back to bed, Frank,” they’d say. “It’s not your fault. Mommy and Daddy are just talking, ok?” Frank knew it was his fault. He didn’t know what he’d done, but he always knew that somehow it really was his fault.

Frank stepped into the bedroom to get dressed, wishing he really were a kid again. At least if he died and Ray got his way, he’d get to see his mom again someday. That thought brought a small comfort to him, and he dressed quickly before going out to see what else the fates had in store for him.

CHAPTER 4

Gerard and Ray were frustratingly secretive about everything, and Frank mostly sulked on the couch as they talked in hushed tones around the kitchen table. Frank wondered how they started working together in the first place. Weren’t angels and demons battling for different sides in the great scheme of things? They had different bosses, Frank assumed, God and Satan or whatever.

He had read all the reading material in the tiny cabin (one fishing and two gun magazines), and was honestly bored as fuck.

“I’m going on a walk,” he announced, standing up determinately from the couch. “You can come if you want.”

Ray, to Frank’s surprise, said, “Ok, go for it.” Gerard shot him a concerned look.

“I don’t think now’s the best time to send him outside. In here, he’s under my guard. I don’t know if I can protect him in the great outdoors, Ray,” the demon said, his eyes darting toward Frank.

“I’m already as good as dead,” Frank said, and it didn’t sound as sad as it should have, “so whatever is out there can’t be that bad. What’s the worst thing they can do to me? Kill me?” Frank laughed humorlessly.

“I wish that were the worst they could do to you,” Gerard said quietly.

Frank sighed. He’d really had enough of being kept in this dingy cabin. He reached for the doorknob. “If you want to protect me, guardian angel, you’d better come with me.” He stepped out the door and felt proud of himself for taking a stand against the demon.

“Frank, fucking stop,” Gerard shouted at him from the threshold. Frank ignored him and found a small path to walk on. It was cold outside, but not as cold as it had been the past few weeks. Still, he wasn’t really prepared for this weather in his thin sweatshirt, scarf, and jeans. He heard Gerard walking behind him, keeping his distance, but definitely watching Frank.

He glanced over his shoulder at the demon who was wearing nothing but a black t-shirt and tight fitting jeans. That fucker and his fucking inner hell-fire body heat, Frank thought moodily. Gerard’s hair was flopping in his eyes, and he pushed it back stubbornly.

More to prevent himself from getting hypothermia than wanting his actual company, Frank invited Gerard to walk with him. “Fine,” the demon whined. “I can protect you better this way anyway.” He hurried to catch up to Gerard’s long stride.

“Oh, my hero,” Frank said dryly.

They walked in silence for several moments. “I always liked your hair like that,” Gerard suddenly said, and Frank looked over to see the demon staring at him. “Like how it looks when you let it dry naturally and don’t try to make it into that awful straightened thing you do.”

“It’s not a thing. It’s a style,” Frank said.

“Yeah, but this is nice,” Gerard said. “You look more like you did before your dad—“

Frank stopped short. Gerard turned around to look at him, eyes wide and searching, wondering what he’d done wrong. “I’m sorry, I’m still learning this human stuff, what did I do?”

“Fuck, Gerard, you really don’t know?” Frank ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Ok, give me an honest answer for once, ok?”

Gerard’s eyes turned blacker. “You know I can’t promise you that, Frank–“

“Bullshit,” Frank said loudly, shaking his head. “You just won’t tell me because you think it’d protect me or something. That’s ridiculous. So answer me. Why have you been watching me my whole life if that was supposedly Ray’s heavenly duty? Is he a fucked up angel, or are you just a fucked up demon?”

Gerard looked down at his shoe and scuffed a toe in the dirt. It would be sort of cute if Frank weren’t so mad at him at the moment. “A little of both, I guess. It was Ray’s job as an angel to guard you, and he would have done fine on his own. But you—you are my calling; you have been since before your birth. You were chosen for something greater than you and me, and I’m tied to you forever until you die.” He let the last few words out in a rush, like he couldn’t stop them, a mixture of regret and relief crossing his features.

Frank leaned against a tree trunk “When you say I’m tied to you, what do you mean? Like a bond or something?”

Gerard hesitated again.

“Come on, I deserve to know,” Frank practically pleaded.

“I know you do, Frankie,” he said quietly. Frank didn’t know how he felt about the demon using his nickname. He shifted from foot to foot, his usual manic self coming back with a vengeance. “Ok, so it’s more than a bond; remember how I mentioned your aura before? How it was unique?” Frank nodded. How could he forget? It was the reason demons supposedly wanted to eat him or something. “Well, that aura is a perfect mirror of mine. Where I am dark, you are light. Where I am evil, you are good. My father was dying, you see, and he needed to ensure that I would take over for him after he passed on to the next realm.”

Frank stared at him as if he were speaking another language. So he was made to be Gerard’s antithesis. What did that mean? He was a nobody. Just a kid. Why him?

“Let me explain,” Gerard quickly added. “Eighteen years ago, when you were born, my dad made me mark you as destined for hell.”

Frank shook his head, both in defiance and as a way to clear it. “But Ray said that I was marked for heaven before yesterday. Otherwise, why would I have a guardian angel,” Frank said, mildly proud of himself for catching on.

“Well, marking humans without ‘management’s’ permission isn’t strictly legal by heavenly codes,” Gerard explained. “So they ‘remarked’ you, and assigned Ray to you, but by then it was too late. I was connected to you forever. If you would have died yesterday, I would have died too.”

Frank sighed heavily. Gerard was looking at him intently. He leaned one arm against the tree trunk next to Frank’s head. “I can’t be far from you or I grow weaker and weaker until eventually I die.”

He leaned closer to Frank, his warmth invading Frank’s space. It wasn’t unpleasant. Not at all. Frank swallowed, and Gerard watched the movement with impossibly black eyes. “But when I’m close to you, I feel powerful, you strengthen me,” Gerard said thickly, leaning even closer. His face was close to Frank’s, so close that Frank could feel his breath on his skin. “I feel everything you’re feeling only heightened,” Gerard was saying, “and it’s fucking torture because I can never get as close to you as I want to.”

All traces of white in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by black, and they seemed almost to glow in the twilight evening. His hand had moved from the tree trunk to the front of Frank’s shirt, hovering millimeters above the fabric but never touching. Frank felt the warmth flow through him like fire, yet he shivered. Gerard smiled slowly to reveal a set of pointed, razor sharp teeth. He dragged the hand down further until it was hovering over the front of Frank’s pants. He leaned close to Frank, and whispered into his ear, “I can feel everything you’re feeling times a thousand.”

Frank felt frightened and curious and so many things he should not be feeling about a demon who looked like he was about to eat him.

Suddenly a voice came from a few yards up the trail. “Gerard, that’s enough.” It was Ray. Frank knew that without turning to look. Gerard paused, but didn’t move himself away from Frank. “Ray,” he said so softly that if Ray were a human, he wouldn’t have been able to hear, “can you touch him for me? I want to feel it. I want to feel what it’s like to touch him. Please, Ray.” He was practically begging.

Frank swallowed thickly, and he was pretty sure he was blushing from head to foot.

“Come on, Gerard,” Ray said, “let’s go before you do something you’ll regret later.”

Gerard stuck out his lower lip in a petulant pout. Frank wanted to lick his lips; instead, he slowly slid out from beneath where Gerard had him pinned against the tree. He saw Ray was glowing brightly, sending out a radiant light like he was putting up a shield around himself and those around him.

Where Ray was light, Frank noticed Gerard was pulsating a smoky energy that was magnetic and addicting, and Frank found that he had to force himself to move away from the demon. Maybe they really were connected, he thought. It would certainly help to explain the electricity running throughout his entire body. Sometimes he hated being a hormonal teenager.

He started heading back toward the cabin, and he heard the two celestial beings follow him at a distance. He looked back briefly to see that Ray had the demon’s hand in his own. Ray’s light was flowing through his arm and down to where their hands were linked. Gerard seemed as if he was slowly coming down off whatever demon-trip he had gone on.

Frank was brooding and still slightly aroused by the time he reached the cabin. It really, really wasn’t fair that Ray could touch Gerard and calm him down and transfer energies or whatever, and he was here being a fucking human, stuck somewhere between life and death, heaven and hell. He made himself a bowl of cereal for dinner and took it into his room. Ray knocked on his door once, asking if he was all right. Frank told him to fuck off.

“Gerard says he’s sorry,” was all he said in return.

Frank was almost asleep when he felt a shiver pass through his body, settling in his groin. “What the fuck?” he said to himself. He could vaguely hear a soft moan coming from the living room. It was Gerard, that much he could tell, and he wasn’t surprised that he was a loud, vocal fuck. He was loud and vocal at all other times of the day too.

He heard Gerard’s deep base whisper to Ray as if he were whispering it to Frank, “Yeah, you like that?” Ray gave a breathy whine, “Fuck.” Frank couldn’t exactly tell where Ray was being touched. All he knew was that he was enjoying it. A lot. Frank could sense rather than hear that Ray was grinding his hips against the demon’s as they sat on the couch. He suddenly felt Ray being dragged up off the couch, and Gerard was pushing him against a wall.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Gerard was whispering to Ray or maybe to Frank. The lines seemed blurred at this point. Frank ran his hand down his bare chest to his boxers. Tentatively, experimentally, he pushed his hand underneath the waistband, and wrapped a hand around his half-hard cock. He was more than satisfied when he heard Gerard let out a loud, primal groan from across the living room.

Frank imagined Gerard’s impossibly warm hand ghosting over his cock, urging him to get hard for him. He stroked faster, and he could hear Gerard moaning. Frank knew the demon was close. He could hear it, he could feel it as if it were him. “Fucking harder,” he heard himself whisper at the same time as Ray moaned it loudly from the living room. He increased his speed, and barely had to imagine that it was him being fucked, that it was him being touched the way he wanted by the demon.  
He came at the same time as Gerard, and it spilled over his hand when the demon’s spilled over his. A pleasant grunt came from the living room as Ray also moaned contentedly.

He wiped his hand on the sheet and tucked himself back in his boxers. So this is what Gerard had meant when he said he could feel everything Frank was feeling. Why could Frank suddenly feel it too?

He remembered Ray mentioning something about Gerard having a hard time controlling his “projections” onto Frank. Maybe it wasn’t really a connection at all. Maybe he was just horny and the demon was projecting his own arousal onto him. But holy fuck, if this kept happening, he wasn’t sure how he would ever face the demon again. He couldn’t hear Gerard’s voice without hearing that moan, low and rumbling, echoing in his subconscious, begging to touch him.

Frank lay awake for hours, turning over the events of the day in his mind. What did Gerard mean when he said that Frank was connected to him, his “reverse mirror” or whatever? And why would he not touch Frank? If he really was meant to keep Gerard alive forever through his “aura” or whatever, wouldn’t it help to transfer some of that aura to him?

Frank didn’t even know what to think anymore. He really wanted to go home to his mom, to his job, even to school, and he curled up into a ball on the bed in the same way he used to when he’d had a nightmare. His mom would always come in and lay down next to him, stroking his hair and singing to him until he fell asleep. The door quietly opened, and as if on cue, a body lay down in the bed next to him. A strong arm wrapped around his waist. It was Ray, Frank could tell by the way he smelled and the way he felt; he wasn’t warm like Gerard would be.

“Gerard is trying, he really is,” Ray was saying into Frank’s neck. “This is new to him, too. He’s never been a guardian for a human before, and he’s still learning how the whole projecting thing works. Plus it makes it even harder because of that fucking aura of yours.”

“I still don’t get that,” Frank said, unconsciously nuzzling closer into Ray.

Ray responded by wrapping his arm even tighter around Frank, and he could swear he felt some of Ray’s light flowing into him, calming him, soothing him to relax. “If you ever saw Gerard’s aura, you’d understand, and you’d feel the same,” he said. “His aura like yours, and it attracts angels and demons to him, just like yours does.”

Frank listened to Ray breathing for several long moments. 

“Am I going to Hell?” he asked in a small, child-like voice.

“I don’t know,” Ray said honestly. “But I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep that from happening, ok?”

Frank nodded, and Ray kissed his neck softly. Frank could swear he heard music then, like when his mom would sing to him as a child. He fell asleep quickly, and once again dreamed of fallen demons, and black wings, and battles in fire and ice.

The next morning, Frank woke late. The sun was streaming through the window, but Ray was nowhere to be seen. He pulled on a set of clothes, the only other ones he’d brought with him, and padded into the living room barefooted. Gerard was sitting on the counter, sniffing a can of coffee and wrinkling his nose. His eyes met Frank’s and they looked tired and worn. Frank looked away, his face turning faintly red. He scanned the room to see Ray sitting on the sofa. In the armchair was a man Frank had never seen before. He was dressed all in a black suit, his hair neatly parted to the side. A cane rested by one knee, and Frank resisted the urge to laugh at his fashion choice, but then again, he was wearing dirty sweats and a wrinkled hoodie so he wasn’t really one to talk at this point.

The man turned to scan Frank. His eyes were blue. Really, really blue like looking into the arctic ocean, inhuman, and entrancing.

“So this is him,” he was saying, curtly, professionally, like a used car salesman. “Mr. Frank Iero, I presume? I’m sorry about this whole kerfuffle. I’m Brian, manager of EHS, that’s Eastside Heavenly Souls.” He extended his hand to Frank.

Frank gaped at the ‘manager’. “Kerfuffle?” he repeated incredulously. “You put me right in the middle of a fucking battle between heaven and hell. I’d hardly call that a kerfuffle.”

Brian waggled a finger at him. “Nuh uh, that was not our fault. We at EHS pride ourselves on making sure everyone dies when they’re supposed to and end up where they’re supposed to.” He crossed himself and lifted his index finger to the ceiling. “Your situation was entirely the demon world’s fault, specifically, that demon there,” he pointed at Gerard, “and we are looking into it, let me assure you. At EHS, we want you to be happy with your eternal destination.”

Frank stared at him for a long moment before saying, “What the actual fuck?”

“Tut, tut,” he said. “That kind of language isn’t going to help speed along your new destination papers any faster. What we need to figure out is how to get you back under the jurisdiction of your appointed guardian angel, Ray here, so that he can kill you properly.” Brian smiled cheerfully.

Frank turned to look at Ray who was smiling back at Brian with a cheesy grin. Great, thought Frank, his guardian angel was trying to kiss up to the person who was giving the orders to remove him from the planet. He was totally fucked.

“Can’t I just stay on earth and live out my days in peace and die of old age or something before going, you know,” Frank pointed up at the ceiling.

Brian turned his cold blue eyes on him. “Oh, no no no, Mr. Iero. You must die. And soon. Don’t worry, Ray will make it very painless. Trust me, it might seem scary at the moment, but death passes quicker than the blink of an eye, and then you’ll feel like you’re home forever. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Frank considered honestly for a moment. What Brian was describing really did sound—not terrible. And hey, his grandma was probably up there waiting for him. He chanced a look at Gerard, who had a pained, almost desperate expression on his face. If he died and went to heaven, Gerard would die, that he knew. He heard a pleading voice in his head saying a quiet, “Please.”

Frank turned back to Brian. “And if I refuse to go along with you?”

Brian looked shocked, and he puffed up his chest like a bird fluffing up its feathers. “Well, one of two things will happen. Either you’ll die and go to hell or in his infinite mercy, God will send a hoard of angels to rip your soul from this earth to take you to heaven against your will.” He leaned back into the armchair. “I can assure you, neither option is desirable or pleasant for anybody.”

Frank sat down heavy on the sofa. He looked at Ray who was no longer smiling. He attempted to spread some light to Frank, but he waved the angel away. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Gerard. He knew what he’d see. A darker mirror image of his own feelings. Everything about him was a mirror image of the demon.  
He thought about living for an eternity in a paradise. His grandma would welcome him with open arms, and it really would feel like home.  
“Is my mom,” Frank began, looking at Brian, “is my mom marked for heaven?”

Brain sighed. “She is a good woman, deep down, despite her personal demons. Yes, she is marked for heaven.”

“Fuck,” Frank whispered, resting his head in his palms. “I can’t make this choice.”

“You have to,” Brain said quietly and firmly.

Ray reached to take one of Frank’s hands in his own. “Frank, think of your family. Do you want to leave them alone forever?”

Frank shook his head, “Of course not, it’s just–” He looked at Ray in his soft brown eyes which felt comforting and familiar. ”You’ll be there too?” he asked. Ray smiled, and Frank swore he felt lighter suddenly, happier. There really was only one decision to make, he knew that now, looking at Ray. Heaven would be so nice. No more pain and suffering.

“Ok,” he told Brian with an unnatural calm, “I’ll go with Ray to heaven. It’s really the only right thing to do, isn’t it?”

Brian leaned back in the chair contentedly spreading his hands across his chest. “Glad you saw it our way, Mr. Iero. Trust me, you won’t regret your decision.” He gave a nod toward Ray that Frank couldn’t interpret in the cloudy mist he was currently feeling in his belly. Everything would be fine as long as he said yes to this offer.

He was only faintly aware of Gerard sliding down from the counter, and hissing to Ray, “Now who’s fucking projecting on him, huh?” Frank barely registered the cabin door opening and Gerard leaving in an angry flurry of demon energy.

Frank had done the right thing. He knew he had. But the moment Ray let go of his hand, he felt suddenly so empty and hollow and suddenly he knew nothing would ever be right again.

CHAPTER 5

**************WARNINGS: death and suicide attempts (everyone is OKAY though)******************

Brian had left right after Frank agreed to let Ray take him to heaven. God, when had his life become so ridiculous? He wasn’t even sure he’d believed in a heaven or hell before this week. Now he was talking about going there like he was planning a fucking vacation or something.

As soon as the managerial angel left, Ray stood from where he had been seated by Frank on the couch, and walked to the kitchen.

“You must be hungry,” Ray said, pulling a box of macaroni and cheese from the cupboard. Of course Ray would know that Mac n' Cheese was always Frank’s favorite when he was feeling low.

“Where’s Gerard?” Frank asked, looking around. Now that he was thinking clearer, he realized the demon had left while he had been talking to Brian.

“Don’t worry, Frank, he’s fine. Just stepped out for a bit.” Ray started to boil the water.

Frank watched him for a long moment. “I didn’t think angels were supposed to lie,” he said softly. Ray stilled before shrugging his shoulders.

“As long as we get our jobs done, they don’t really care what we get up to down here. So lying is not a big deal.”

“How about fucking demons?” the words were out of Frank’s mouth before he could stop them, and he instantly regretted them.

Ray laughed good naturedly. “We're just doing each other a favor," he said. "I can’t fill the void that was left in Gerard the day he marked you. You’re half of him, only you can complete him. But yeah, I guess provide a little distraction for him while he's unable to touch you.” Frank snorted knowingly. Ray looked at Frank, suddenly serious, and said, “Exactly, how much have his projections been affecting you?”

Frank shrugged. “Not too much. I feel what he’s feeling when his emotions are heightened. Like when he’s mad or happy or when he’s, you know, really happy.” Frank gave Ray a pointed look. “But I think he senses more of what I’m feeling than I do of him.”

Ray nodded, stirring the macaroni in the boiling water. “That makes sense. When I had charge over you, I felt you really keenly. More than I felt most of my other charges in the past years. There’s just something really unique about you.” 

He didn’t say it like a compliment, and Frank didn’t take it that way. They were both silent for several moments before Ray finished making the food and set the whole pan on the table. “Lunch?” Ray said.

Frank was hungry, so he sat at the table and began eating. It tasted good, better than whatever Gerard would have cooked. Ray sat at the other end of the table, watching him. He’d spent the last 18 years watching him, Frank remembered. It made him feel comforted and afraid all at once.

“So why can you touch my skin but Gerard can’t?” Frank asked, trying for a conversational tone.

Ray folded his hands behind his head. “Basically what it is, is demons and angels both exist off of human auras, like human energies.”

“Exist off of?” Frank asked.

“Well, to use a crude term, we feed off them.” Frank wrinkled his nose. Ray laughed and continued, “When demons touch humans, they suck the light out of them, take some of their goodness away from them and replace it with doubt and darkness. When an angel touches a human, we suck some of the darker, more negative aura out of them and leave them with a nice, peaceful feeling.”

Well, that would explain why whenever Ray touched him, he felt calmer and more relaxed. “So Gerard doesn’t want to feed off me? That’s why he can’t touch me?”

Ray stared a moment before shaking his head. “It’s not as simple as that. You were made to complete him, to be the yin to his yang, to be the force that will keep him alive forever.” It should have sounded sweet, but the way Ray said it scared Frank and he swallowed heavily. “But as soon as he touches you,” Ray continued, “he’ll take back some of the mark that he left on you when you were born. The more he touches you, the more he'll take until it's all used up, and he’ll eventually become immortal. That's why he marked you in the first place, even if it was his father's idea.”

“And I’ll die.” It was a statement rather than a question.

“Worse. You’ll exist forever without a soul,” Ray said. “Which means you’ll be somewhere between heaven and hell forever, trapped in a kind of limbo. No one knows what happens there because you can’t exactly go for a weekend trip and then come back, you know.”

Frank thought about Gerard touching him, claiming his soul for his own little by little until he was nothing more than a shell. It scared him, and he shivered uncomfortably in his seat. 

“But if I don’t go with him. Don’t let him--feed--on me, then he’ll die?” 

Ray nodded, and reached a hand across the table as if to try to calm him, but Frank jerked his hand away.

“No, I’m going to go find him,” Frank said, standing from the table. “If I just sentenced him to eternal damnation, then I’d like to at least tell him why.”

“He knows why,” Ray said as Frank grabbed his jacket off the edge of the couch. “You want to be with your family forever.”

Frank’s hand paused on the doorknob. He turned toward Ray, “Tell me something. If you hadn’t been touching me when Brian was here, hadn’t been projecting on me, would I have made the same decision? To go with you to heaven?” He didn’t know why he was asking Ray. After all, Frank was in charge of his own life, his own decisions. Or he had been at least.

“I don’t know, Frank,” he said sincerely, “I’m not your guardian anymore, and I can’t read your intentions like I used to. However, I think I do know you well enough to say that, yeah, I think you would have probably made the same decision. Gerard is a demon. In human terms, he’s the bad guy. You don’t deserve to have to live with that kind of evil forever. He could take your soul from you at any moment.”

But he hadn't. Why?

Frank nodded, not sure if he could really picture Gerard being the villain type, but then again the demon had sucked the goodness out of that old woman at the convenience store and replaced it with bitterness and doubt. 

Yeah, okay, maybe he was a bad guy after all. Still, Frank knew he needed to talk to him, so he turned the doorknob and stepped outside, and Ray didn’t try to stop him.

It wasn’t cold, at least not as cold as it had been, but there was a kind of electricity in the air that set him on edge immediately. Now that he was outside, he didn’t know where to go. Where the fuck does a demon go when he’s pissed off with his human charge? Frank started walking toward the trail that would take him out of the woods and into civilization again. 

He came upon the highway and stopped short. 

What if... he just went back home? He could do it. Gerard and Ray weren’t here to stop him. He could see his mom, return to his job, apologize profusely to his boss until the old softy hired him again. What would happen if he pretended this whole debacle never happened?

But fuck. 

They would find him. He knew they would. He couldn’t ever escape.

Still, he found his legs walking toward the city, hoping if he walked far enough and fast enough he could escape his impending fate. When he saw the exit number on the highway, he realized that he was farther from home than he’d originally thought. He couldn’t walk it, so he stuck out his thumb and hoped this worked for him like it did in the movies—without the serial killer part, of course.

He walked along the road as cars passed him by, honking but not stopping, those fuckers. Finally, a pickup truck pulled up behind him. Frank turned to look over his shoulder, a relatively normal-looking, middle aged man was behind the wheel. He poked his head out the window. “Need a ride, son?” he asked. He sounded friendly enough. Frank nodded his head and opened the passenger’s side door, climbing into the truck cab.

“Thanks so much,” Frank said, buckling his seatbelt. He looked toward the driver, and instead came face to face with something that definitely wasn’t human. Its eyes were blood red, and it smiled at him through pointed teeth, and Frank could see its scalp through its stringy black hair. 

Frank tried to still his trembling hands and he looked past the demon to the driver in the driver’s seat, who put the car into drive and began to move forward. “Not a problem,” he said amiably, “it’ll be nice to have some company on the road for a change. Where you headed?”

The demon shook his head slowly back and forth, and Frank swallowed. “Uh, downtown. Yeah, downtown. I just need to catch the bus.”

“That’s right on my way,” the driver said, in a friendly manner, before pulling back into traffic on the highway.

The demon was still staring at Frank, a hungry look in his dark red eyes. “So, what they say is true, you can see us, huh?” he asked Frank, his voice sounding strange and distorted like he was speaking underwater.

“What do you want?” Frank asked.

“What’s that, son?” the driver said, and of course, Frank thought, he couldn’t see demons or angels or any other fucked up thing Frank had seen over the past few days.

“Nothing, sorry, just talking to myself,” Frank said, trying to sound conversational. The demon chuckled, then leaned really close to Frank, nearly touching his neck. His tongue darted out of his mouth as if trying to taste Frank, but he jumped back liked he’d been burned.

“Fuck,” the demon hissed, recoiling, “Gerard already marked you, that fucker.” He pouted in the seat next to him. “It’s not fucking fair that someone with an aura like yours gets to belong to some spoiled little fuck of a demon like Gerard.”

Frank wanted to cry. He closed his eyes and wished that Ray were here. Or fuck, even Gerard. He was in so far over his head right now. 

Frank realized that the driver was asking him a question. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Frank asked.

“I was just wondering what a kid like you is doing out of school this time of day.” He was looking at Frank, concerned.

“Oh, um,” he said distractedly, “I’m actually not in school. I graduated last year.”

“Huh,” the driver said skeptically. They rode in silence for several minutes.

The demon seemed to get antsy, and leaned toward the driver, chuckling. “Oh my, what do we have here?” he said, brushing his pointed-clawed hand up the driver’s leg. “I think I can work with this.”

Frank gave him a look of warning, but he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed with fear.

“You see,” the demon said, hand still hovering over the driver’s leg, “out little driver here might claim to be a happily married man, but I’m sensing a little doubt he has when he looks at pretty little young men like yourself. Oh, yes, I can definitely work with this. And won’t Gerard be pissed when he knows someone else has touched his little charge before him.”

The demon whispered something into the driver’s ear that Frank couldn’t quite hear. He saw the driver swallow deeply before shifting in his seat as if suddenly nervous. He cleared his throat loudly, trying to get his thoughts back under control.

“So, do you have any kids?” Frank said quickly and loudly to break the tension. The driver glanced over. His eyes darted to Frank’s lips. Frank felt suddenly scared and alone and uncomfortable.

“Oh, um, yeah, I have a daughter who’s ten and a son who’s about to turn six.” A war was clearly being waged in the driver’s head, and Frank could almost see the demon next to him pouring some of his dark energy into the man to break him down completely, to make him question everything he’d ever known to be right and good in the world.

“Wow, that’s awesome,” Frank said. The man’s hands were getting sweaty and he rubbed them on the leg of his pants. He licked his lips. “You know," Frank added quickly, "you can just drop me off at the edge of town, that’s fine. It’s really close to my apartment anyway,” Frank said. "I'll take the bus."

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the driver said, and his hand rested on top of Frank’s leg for a brief moment before he quickly snatched it away. He cleared his throat. “I’ll take you home, don’t worry.”

The demon next to him laughed and Frank didn’t think he’d ever hated anything more. This man was a good man, Frank could tell. If the demon hadn’t come along, the driver probably would never even have thought about acting on whatever was warring inside his head.

“Tell me more about your kids,” Frank said. The man put a hand to his head as if to try to clear it.

He started talking about his kids, and Frank tried hard to listen while the demon whispered something in the driver’s year. The man paused, his eyes darting toward Frank for a brief moment before looking away, hands tightening on the wheel as he nearly swerved off the road. The demon smirked at Frank. “I just put the image of you stretched out on his bed, naked and begging for him. I think he liked it.”

Frank swallowed nervously, and they rode the rest of the way in silence. The driver exited off the highway. The wrong exit, Frank noticed. “I just need to pick something up at my house really quick, ok?” he was saying.

Frank nodded, feeling scared. They pulled up to a fairly standard-looking home complete with a motherfucking white picket fence. He parked the truck in the driveway and turned to Frank.

“Come in if you want, it’s too cold to wait out in here.”

Frank looked at the demon who shrugged his shoulders. “Do what you want,” the demon said. “He and his family are marked for heaven so I can’t go into his home without his permission.”

Frank nodded. He’d certainly rather be with that man than this demon. “Ok, yeah, sounds good,” he told the driver.

Inside, his house was perfectly clean and ordinary. Frank asked to use restroom, and the man led him to the bathroom, standing in the doorway as Frank slid past him.   
He shut the door behind him, and Frank leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection. He looked tired, his face pale, his hair curling at the ends like it did when he was a kid and didn’t know how to style it. Gerard had said he liked his hair like this.

Upon exiting the bathroom, he saw the man waiting for him outside the door. “Oh, uh, hi,” Frank said. “Did you get your thing?”

The man nodded, looking at Frank darkly. Frank could see a look in his eye that made him fight off a wave of revulsion. “This isn’t you,” he told the driver. “You’re under the influence of some kind of evil--thing, ok? If you just let me leave, you’ll forget about me and just go back to your family, ok?” He was talking fast, edging toward the front door. The man followed him step for step, grabbing for Frank’s hand when he tried to bolt for the exit.

Frank shouted and tried to pull away, but he was strong, really strong. He tried to kick up at him, but to no avail. The man pinned Frank’s hands over his head. “I know you want this,” he said, clearly trying to convince himself as much as Frank.

Frank felt tears start to stream down his face. Where were his fucking guardian angels now?

As if on cue, he heard something slam against the front door. “Frank, fucking let me in,” it was Gerard’s voice shouting, raspy and concerned. “I can’t go in unless someone lets me. Fucking fuck!” He was pounding against the door so hard, even the driver heard it, and his face blanched. He rolled off Frank, who immediately sprinted toward the front door, and opened it wide.

Gerard didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before. His eyes had turned black, and he was pulsating with a dark energy that Frank was positive would be visible to anyone. What left Frank speechless was the set of black wings that began to unfurl on Gerard’s back. At least nine feet from tip to tip, they stretched out behind him like obsidian curtains. The man was looking at Gerard, his eyes bugged out and he stumbled to the ground trying to crawl away as Gerard advanced on him.  
Frank grabbed for Gerard’s shirt, and the demon turned his dark eyes on him. It took a considerable amount of strength for Frank to actually formulate words in his head. “It’s not his fault,” he managed to get out. “There was another demon who corrupted him. He’s a good person, Gerard, just confused. Let's just go, ok?”

Gerard didn’t seem to care. He pointed to Frank and hissed out an other-earthly, “Mine,” before closing the gap between himself and the man who was shaking in terror on the ground.

His voice was dark and rumbling, evil and thick, as he told the driver, “If I could physically hurt you, I would. I would make you bleed in front of your family. I would make them watch as I cut you open from your skull to your toes.” He lowered himself to the ground, and whispered something in the man’s ear that Frank could barely make out. Frank shuddered. Gerard leaned down and touched the man’s temples with his hands. Pitch black energy flowed from his fingertips into the driver who convulsed violently before becoming board-stiff and staring straight up at the ceiling.

When Gerard was done, he stepped back, his wings clipping the side table and knocking off a picture of the man and his family smiling on a beach somewhere. Frank looked down at the man on the ground. He was still breathing, still alive—technically. His mouth had gone slack and it opened and shut like a fish. His eyes were dead, soulless.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Frank said, turning toward the demon. “He just made a mistake, it was—”  
Frank stopped when he saw the look on Gerard’s face, menacing and possessive. “Mine,” he hissed once again in a demonic whisper, and he backed Frank up until he hit the wall. Frank swallowed hard. “Gerard, I don’t—” The demon ignored him and his wings wrapped around Frank, tucking behind his back, first one and then the other, trapping them both in a dark curtain.

They were soft, and Frank couldn’t help but run his hands across their feathery surface. Gerard closed his eyes and leaned his head next to Frank’s against the wall. “I won’t let them fucking take you from me,” Gerard said, his voice impossibly low and rumbling. Frank knew he wasn’t talking about the truck driver anymore. Frank noticed he was shaking slightly. “They can’t have you. You’re mine, you always have been.”

Frank continued to stroke his wings, and Gerard let out a sound close to a purr. “I have to go, Gerard. They marked me for heaven. I have no choice.”

Gerard pulled his head back and looked into Frank’s eyes. The demon's eyes were still black, now slitted like a cat’s. He put his hand against Frank’s chest, touching him through the fabric of his jacket. The warmth and energy from the demon poured through him like liquid fire, and Frank’s head rolled back.

“I could take your soul right now, you know?” Gerard said, inching his hand up Frank’s chest, closer and closer to the bare skin of his neck. “Then you’d always be mine, and I’d always have you with me.” Frank was breathing heavily, leaning into the demon’s touch. Gerard’s hand stopped mere millimeters from Frank’s bare neck. Frank stopped breathing. “Except, it wouldn’t be you,” Gerard dropped his hand to his side, his fist clenching helplessly. Frank sighed at the loss of contact. “Not really. I’d have just the shell of you, and I can’t live without all of you belonging to me.”

Frank ran a tentative hand across the demon’s wings and up to his shoulder, hovering over the bare skin of his collarbone. Gerard was watching his movements intensely. “I can’t,” said Frank suddenly, dropping his hand to his side. “I have to go with Ray. I can’t live like this forever, Gerard. Never feeling the love of another, never knowing if you’re going to turn on me one day, never knowing if you’re going to suck out my soul during the middle of the night or something.” He swallowed and looked down at his feet, adding quietly,

“Never being able to touch you without losing myself.”

Gerard backed away from him. He removed his wings out from behind Frank. He itched to touch them again, to be wrapped in their warmth forever. Gerard folded them behind his back and closed his eyes, concentrating until they seemed to disappear entirely from sight, like some kind of spell or glamour hiding them from Frank’s eyes.

“We should get you back to the cabin,” Gerard said coldly. “We’ll take his truck.” Gerard motioned toward the driver still staring straight ahead, mouth hanging open, eyes dead of life. Frank felt sick to his stomach.

The drive back to the woods was silent. Frank felt empty and alone. As dusk slipped into darkness, they parked the truck at the edge of the woods, and Gerard led them along the trail until they reached the cabin. Ray was sitting on the steps of the front porch.

“What the fuck, Gerard?” he said as soon as they were in view, shoving Gerard’s chest so hard the demon staggered backward. “You fucking blocked him from my view. I didn’t know where he was or if he was dead or if some demon had got to him or if you had fucking got to him.”

“It’s taken care of,” was all Gerard said.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Ray asked. Their polar-opposite energies of light and dark made the air pulsate with an electric charge. Frank backed away.

“It means that he’s safe, and he’s yours to do with what you want, ok?” Gerard’s eyes showed no anger, only sadness and desperation. “Kill him and take him to heaven. As soon as possible. It’ll be better that way.”

Ray was silent for a moment before he reached to touch his hand. “Gerard, I—”

“Please.” His face was all earnestness and worry. “He’s made his choice, and I’ve made mine. Do this for me.”

Ray considered for a moment before nodding slowly. “Ok,” he said, placing his hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “But you know that as soon as Frank crosses the threshold into heaven, your claim on him disappears. Your connection will be lost, and you won’t be able to find him. You know that.”

Gerard blinked. “I know,” he said.

Frank stepped forward to demand whether he had some say in this, but Gerard cut him off. He paused only for a moment, his eyes boring into Frank’s. “Goodbye, Frank,” he said curtly, and started toward the edge of the woods.

“Gerard, wait,” Frank shouted, started to jog after him. Gerard shook his wings into visibility but didn’t turn around to face him, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Frank without changing his mind. His wings spread out before him, breathtakingly beautiful in their power and glory. The demon launched himself into the air, a mesmerizing sight to see, as black wings blended with black night, disappearing into the midnight depths of midnight sky.

Frank reached a hand up to feel a tear on his cheek. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. Ray touched his hand, and this time, Frank accepted the angel’s projections of peace. Everything would be fine if Ray said it would. Gerard really was the bad guy. Frank would see his grandma and eventually his mom again, and everything would be fine.

That night, Ray stepped into Frank’s room and lay down beside him on the bed. He wrapped a strong arm around Frank’s waist and asked him if he was ready.  
Frank nodded.

Frank didn’t know what to expect from death. Would his life flash before his eyes? Would he see a light at the end of the tunnel? Would a choir of angels greet him singing the Halleluiah chorus?

In the end, dying was sort of a letdown. He felt a brief moment of pain as Ray ended his life with a scrape of knife across his skin. Then he felt the world start to go hazy. He dreamt of wings being burnt off of Gerard’s back, of him screaming, and falling to earth with nothing to break his fall, nothing to stop him.

The last thing he saw was a set of pure golden wings unfurl behind Ray’s back like a gilded curtain, shining and beautiful. Frank smiled weakly, and stepped out of his body to hug himself into Ray’s arms, and then they were falling—no, not falling—flying up higher and higher until Frank couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel any more pain.

He slept.

CHAPTER 6

Frank awoke slowly, disoriented, like he’d slept for dozens of hours longer than he should have. For a moment upon opening his eyes he saw nothing but white, and thought for a moment that maybe heaven really was just a cloud in the sky like they showed in picture books. But on turning his head to one side, he determined he was in a bedroom, a huge, white room, so big that he couldn’t see the end. He was lying in a bed big enough for six with white covers, white headboard, and white posts. Next to his bed was a white nightstand with a single blood red apple on top of it. 

Fuckin dramatic, but okay, he thought. 

Everything was perfectly clean and neat, and if Frank weren’t so disoriented, that fact would have made the obsessively neat part of him very pleased. He turned his head to the other side to see a long couch, again blood red in color.

Sitting casually on the couch was Brian, dressed in his standard, tight-fitting black suit and polished shoes. He looked as he had on earth, except his silver wings, perfectly groomed and luminescent, were visible, stretched out beautifully behind his back. He was running his hands through the feathers in a bored fashion when he saw Frank. His face brightened, and he immediately affected a plastic smile.

“Oh, so good to see you awake, Mr. Iero,” he said. “Join me, would you?” He gestured to the couch, and drew his wings closed to fold behind his back in order to give Frank room to sit next to him.

Frank slowly swung his legs from under the covers and tentatively stepped onto the soft white carpet beneath. Every sense felt heightened in the same way he’d felt before during the two or three times he’d taken drugs in his life. It was wonderful and intoxicating. He cleared his throat to say something but found it was dry, really dry, like he hadn’t had a sip to drink in days.

As if on cue, a strange creature entered the room, pale and impossibly thin, thinner than any human, nothing more than bones and skin. It wore only a pair of loose fitting white pants, and Frank saw his ribs jutting from his chest. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes were sunken into his face, glassy and lifeless.

The creature gave him a goblet of some dark liquid, and Frank drank of it greedily as it slid down his throat, tasting like honey. Some spilled onto his chest and everywhere the liquid touched felt warm and loved. He drank more and more until there was none left.

The creature took the cup from him and turned toward the door. Frank swallowed as he saw two scarred nubs on its shoulder blades, the place where wings once had been. The creature left the room quickly. Frank knew he should have felt repulsed or sad because the scarred figure, but he couldn’t feel anything but a sweet contentment and a hazy wonder at the world around him.

He walked dreamily toward Brian who was watching him intently.

“Feel better?” he asked.

Frank nodded because he did. He really did. “Is this heaven?” Frank asked.

“Come and sit down Frank.” Frank did. “Are you still thirsty?” Frank was, but something inside him told him he shouldn’t drink more of the liquid, so he shook his head.   
“Are you sure?” Brian was asking.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Frank said, sinking down into the impossibly soft couch. He wanted to curl up on it and sleep forever. “Is this heaven?” Frank asked again.

“Do you think this is heaven, Frank?” Brian asked, annoyingly condescending.

“That’s not what I asked,” Frank said, but he was having trouble formulating a clear thought. He shook his head to try to regain lucidity.

“This is wherever you want it to be, Mr. Iero,” Brian said, tapping a hand on his knee as though he had other places to be.

“Where’s Gerard and Ray?” Frank asked. Why hadn’t he thought of them sooner? He’d thought about little else his last week on earth. He figured it was a futile question anyway. If this were heaven, Gerard would be far from here. Still, he wanted to know. Wanted to know how long it would take for the demon to die without Frank’s aura giving him energy, feeding him.

“I’m sorry, who?” Brian asked, his plastic smile faltering only slightly.

“You know? Gerard? The demon who put the mark on me and stopped me from dying last week? The one who caused all this 'kerfuffle'?”

“Is he another voice you’ve been hearing, Mr. Iero?” Brian said, concerned.

Frank sat back against the couch and ran a shaky hand through his hair, which he noticed was considerably longer than last time he’d touched it. “No. No, fuck you,” he told Brian, trying for ferocity in his tone, but he felt just so confused. Where was he?

“You seem distressed. Let me get you some help.” Brian stepped outside the door to talk to someone on the other side.

Frank got up to go follow him. In stepped Ray, and Frank sighed in relief. “Ray, what the fuck is going on?” he said.

Ray was wingless and wearing plain green scrubs. “Calm down, Mr. Iero,” he was saying. “You’ve had quite an ordeal. Let’s get you back in bed, okay?” He moved to grab Frank by the arm, but he wrenched it away.

“Ray, what are you doing? What did they do to you?” he asked. Ray looked concerned.

“I think you need to get some rest, Frank,” he said, this time reaching to grab Frank around his middle. He snaked away and bolted for the door. Brian and Ray rushed after him, but he was able to slip past them and run into the hallway outside his room.

It was long, stretching the length of two football fields or more. Hundreds of doors lined each side, and the noise was deafening. Screaming and maniacal laughter and weeping emanated from each doorway. Frank began running down the hall, but was stopped by an enormous, muscled man.

“Whoops, where you trying to get off to?” he asked, grabbing Frank around his waist and hoisting him back to his room. Frank kicked and screamed, but the bigger man seemed impervious.

“Where the fuck am I?” Frank screamed to Brian, to Ray, to anyone who’d answer him, but no one did.

Ray gave Brian a pointed look. “I think you should tell him,” he said. Brian paused a moment to consider, then sighed.

“Maybe you’re right, Ray, but not yet.”

The big man dragged Frank into his room, and Brian followed close behind. Frank staggered to stay standing; he felt so dizzy and his head felt thick with hundreds of thoughts that weren’t quite the right ones. He was so thirsty, and the big man forced him to drink from a cup that held more of the sweet liquid. Suddenly, it didn’t taste good it at all, and it burned his throat as he tried not to swallow it.

“Come on, Frank, drink it; you’ll feel better,” Brian was saying, and he grabbed Frank by the throat violently to force him to swallow. Frank choked and tried to push him away, but the liquid slid down his throat nonetheless.

Once he’d swallowed the last drop, he dropped to the bed. He felt better, a lot better. Why had he not wanted to drink it? It tasted so good, and everything was fine. He had no need to worry about—who was he worried about?

“At-a-boy, Frank,” Ray said gently, giving Brian a harsh look, and helped Frank swing his legs onto the bed and under the covers.

“Is this heaven?” Frank asked again.

Ray swung a glance at Brian who stepped forward as Frank lay his head down on his pillow. It was so soft. Brian’s wings were shining and silver and more beautiful than anything Frank had ever seen. He reached forward to touch them, but Brian withdrew.

“This is a mental hospital, Mr. Iero,” he said. “You tried to kill yourself several days ago.”

Frank noticed for the first time that his wrists were bandaged tightly. How had he not noticed that? Why had he tried to kill himself in the first place? Life was so wonderful. Everything was just so wonderful.

“Why would I do that?” he voiced the question aloud.

“You’re very sick, Frank,” Brian was saying. “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

Frank nodded. That made perfect sense. Everything made perfect sense.

Again, he slept.

When he awoke, his room looked as it had before, stark white. The couch was gone, replaced by a single chair that looked rather uncomfortable. The apple was still on the nightstand. He picked it up tentatively, and went to take a bite. It burned his hand like acid and he dropped it, watching as it sizzled and melted into the floor, leaving an ugly black mark in an otherwise perfectly white room.

He looked toward the door. It was gone. He scanned the room rapidly for another exit or entrance but found none. His senses all felt heightened, and he had trouble breathing as he realized there was no escape. He was completely trapped, completely alone.

He looked down to see his fingernails scratching into his arm, a nervous, compulsive gesture that plagued him when he felt like he couldn’t control his life. But he felt no pain even as he saw blood begin to trickle down his arm. It felt like he were watching someone else bleeding.

A single drop of blood dripped onto the pure white ground, leaving an ugly red stain next to the burn mark the apple had made. As he watched it, the blood seemed to spread across the floor, seeping through the carpet, and inching its way toward Frank. He shuffled back onto the bed to avoid it touching his feet, but it crawled up the bedpost and onto the bed behind him. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t scream. He curled into a ball and shut his eyes, the way his mom had told him to when he had nightmares as a child.

In his mind, he saw her combing a hand through his hair, singing softly and coaxing him into sleep. “If you’d like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar, and be better off than you are...” Frank could almost hear her as though she were there; feel her as if she were actually touching him.  
Instead, when he opened his eyes, he saw that the room looked normal again. Pure white except for the black and red stains on the floor. Those fucking spots got under his skin, and he longed for something to clean the floor with, the way he’d always clean the carpet after his mom had puked on it after a night of heavy drinking, erasing the memory of what had happened the night before.

No one came in to give him food. Only more of that drink. He never ate, yet he didn’t feel hungry. Occasionally he tasted the sweetness of the drink on his tongue, and wanted more, but he pushed the desire for it away. Whatever was going on here, he knew that the drink clouded his thoughts. If he ever hoped to escape, he would need a clear mind.

He thought for a moment. What if he were in a mental hospital? What if he’d always been crazy? What if it had just been in his head? There were no angels and demons, no Gerard and Brian and Ray. No, that wasn’t possible. He wasn’t crazy.

But then again, didn’t all crazy people think that way?

He had no way of keeping track of day or night. How long had he been here? His hair was getting always longer, and he’d even started to grow a little scruff along his cheeks. Yet he never felt hungry, never thirsty except for a desire for a taste of that sweet drink.

The stains remained, burning into his soul like they’d burned into the floor. If he weren’t already crazy, he knew he’d go mad in here, sooner rather than later. He wondered if they’d forgotten about him. However, if this really were a mental hospital, that seemed unlikely. And why hadn’t his mom visited him then, or his friends, or anyone?

After a hundred years or maybe a day, he finally woke up to see a face lying next to him. It was a face both completely familiar and totally foreign to him, one that was as comforting as it was terrifying.

“Gerard?” Frank’s voice was hoarse. How long had it been since he’d spoken aloud, he wondered.

The demon opened his eyes, looking at Frank with both desperation and relief. “Are you real?” he asked, low and weak. Frank shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t sure anymore. “I didn’t think this would ever actually work,” Gerard said, and it seemed he was holding his breath for fear Frank would disappear with the slightest exhale.

Frank didn’t know what to say. He reached to touch Gerard’s face, but his hand passed through him like a ghostly apparition. All he felt was a shadow of the familiar warmth he associated with Gerard. “You’re not here.” It wasn’t a question. Gerard shook his head.

Frank noticed that he looked worn down, beaten down. He was thinner than he had been. His eyes held little life in them; they were a dull black rather than the shiny obsidian they had seemed before. His wings were curled under him like a blanket. They’d lost their luster and seemed scraggly, feathers loose and falling off. Frank reached out to touch them, but again his hand passed through. Gerard’s eyes fluttered shut and he sighed before opening them again.

“You're dying?” Frank asked, his voice soft, like he was afraid to speak the words aloud.

Gerard looked at him with calm, lifeless eyes. “Soon,” was all he said.

“Am I dead?” Frank asked.

“Yes,” Gerard said simply.

"Ok." Frank nodded, glad at least that he was being honest with him for a change. “This is not a mental hospital.” Again, it was not a question. Frank had been sure of that for a while.

“No, it’s not,” Gerard answered anyway.

Frank scooted closer to Gerard, closer than he’d ever been to the demon, yet he couldn’t feel him, couldn’t feel the warmth the way he used to. “What is this place? Is this hell?”

Gerard smiled weakly. “No, Frankie, I’m the one in hell.”

Frank was almost afraid to ask. “Is this heaven?” He breathed the question out already knowing the answer.

“No. You’re not in heaven.”

A single tear slipped from his cheek unbidden. Gerard reached as if to brush it away, but his hand ghosted through him.

“Why?” Frank choked out. “What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, baby, you didn’t do anything. It’s not your fault. I'm sorry. I didn't know--” Anguish was written across Gerard’s features and it was apparent in the tone of his voice. He scooted closer, and if he had been present, he would have been resting his forehead against Frank’s. “I can’t believe I really thought they’d take you to heaven," he said sadly. "You, who were marked by a demon from birth." He reached a hand down toward Frank’s chest.

“But,” Frank tried to grasp at understanding, but his head felt clouded, “but they said when I died, the mark you left on me would be loosed.” He resisted adding, “and I’d be free from you forever.”

“It was,” Gerard said, his voice pained. “That’s why I am dying, but you didn’t make it to heaven, Frank. They wouldn't let you in because of your connection with me.” Gerard was studying him with intense eyes, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Where am I then?” Frank swallowed heavily and looked away from Gerard’s eyes.

“This is purgatory.”

Frank had a tenuous knowledge of Catholicism at best, but Gerard already knew that. Of course he did, so he explained.

“Purgatory is a place between heaven and hell for those people who couldn’t quite make it to heaven but aren’t quite bad enough for hell.”

“So, I’m trapped here forever?” Frank was trembling slightly. He could almost feel Gerard’s hand reaching up to comfort him. Almost.

“Not forever,” Gerard said, but the way he said it wasn’t hopeful in the least. It scared Frank. “But you can’t go up, Frank. You can’t ever. Because you belong to me. Because you’re mine.” The way he said it sent shivers down Frank’s spine. And for the briefest moment, Gerard’s eyes glowed with life like they once had, black and shining. Then just as suddenly, they were dull and lifeless again.

Frank knew exactly what he meant when he said up. There was only one thing up from purgatory just like there was only one thing down.

“If I can’t go up, then, what should I do?” Why he was asking a demon for advice, he didn’t know.

“I can’t take you down with me. It's not allowed,” Gerard said. Frank was oddly disappointed. He shouldn’t want to be dragged to hell by a demon, he really shouldn’t, but all the same his heart sank when he heard the words. “But there is another way—” Gerard began again. There was something in the words that made Frank wish Gerard had never said them.

“What way?”

Gerard’s hand was a shadow down Frank’s arm until it reached his bandaged wrists. “You can finish this.” He ran a translucent finger down the scars. “They won’t let you back in to Purgatory, and you’ll fall and fall and fall, and I’ll be there to catch you.”

Gerard’s eyes were boring into his, all darkness and infinite depth. Frank swallowed. Could he do it? Would he really end it just so he could go to hell? He suddenly stood up out of the bed, and shook his head. Gerard shifted off the bed after Frank, his wings rustling behind him. For the first time since Frank knew him, he looked unsure about what Frank’s next move would be.

“If I go to hell, who’s to say you won’t just kill me as soon as I get there?”

Gerard’s eyes suddenly lit up in an inappropriately teasing manner. “Oh, Frankie,” he said patronizingly, “you’ll be in hell. There’s nowhere else to go if I kill you.” He considered for a moment. “I mean, I could kill you as many times as I wanted, but you’d always wake up again the next day. That’s part of God’s design when he made hell so that there's no escape. Don’t worry. You’ll never have to leave.”

Frank blinked slowly at the demon who was still smiling like this was no big deal. “No,” he said, scooting away from the demon, suddenly resolute. “I won’t go. I don’t belong in hell. I am—I was a good person.”

Gerard’s eyes flickered with intensity. He stepped closer to Frank, trying to crowd him against to the wall. Frank backed up before realizing that Gerard wasn’t actually there. He had no power over him. He walked through the demon, but as he did he felt some of Gerard’s energy flow through him like a caress and he shivered. He noticed Gerard doing the same.

“Get the fuck out, Gerard,” he said, trying to sound determined, but it came out more pleading, desperate.

“You don’t want me to go,” he said, trying to inch closer to Frank, but there was an unsurety in his voice. “You’ll be alone here forever.”

Frank thought about that. He really would be alone forever here, but the alternative was a lifetime of torment in hell—with Gerard. With Gerard, a demon who would never love him, who would probably feed off his soul until he was a lifeless husk, never dying but never living.

“No. I can’t.”

Gerard backed up like he’d been slapped. He looked suddenly even weaker, more faint and fading more each moment.

“Fine,” he said. “But if you change your mind—” Before he could finish he disappeared. Frank sighed after he left, less from a sense of relief, and more from a sense of emptiness, a hollowness in his soul that he know only Gerard could ever really fill.

He was tired again. He was always tired, and he climbed on top of his bed once again. Something shiny caught his eye on the nightstand table. He shifted closer.

It was a knife, jagged and rough and impossibly old with what looked like rubies encrusted into the hilt. He grabbed it and stuck it under his pillow. He was never going to use it, but still, he had to be careful that one of the guards or Brian didn’t see it.

When he awoke, he saw Ray standing above him, and he had to keep himself from throwing his arms around the angel. Fuck he needed a hug right now. Ray’s wings were beautiful and golden, stretched out behind him. Frank noticed though that the tips of the feathers were singed like had stood too close to a fire.

Frank reached a hand out toward the angel unconsciously. “Why didn’t you take me up all the way, Ray? All the way to heaven?” he asked softly. Ray took his hand, and Frank felt instantly better. He would make everything better.

“I tried, Frank,” he said, sadder than he had ever seen him. “They cast me out, cast me down.”

An image sprang into Frank’s mind like a long-forgotten dream, of a golden angel clinging to him as he was cast out of a golden land, his wings catching fire as he fell down, down. He was falling too fast and he landed violently and suddenly to hard ground, wings wrapped around Frank like a protective shield. It was many moments before he was able to rise up and see where he was. A desolate land where all fallen angels went to live and work forever.

“I tried,” Ray said again.

“It’s not your fault.” Frank squeezed his hand gently. "I'm so sorry."

“I know whose fault it is,” Ray’s eyes were glowing and ablaze. “That fucker could have at least told me.”

“He didn’t realize they wouldn't let me in,” Frank said, defending the demon. Ray’s eyes snapped up to meet his.

“How do you know that?” he said, accusingly.

“I--I don’t,” but Frank was always a bad liar. Ray let go of his hand. Frank reached for it again pathetically, but Ray drew back. Frank whined in protest, and the angel smiled slightly, relenting and once again taking his hand. Everything was okay again.

“Did he come here?” Ray asked.

Frank nodded because Ray deserved to be told the truth.

“And did he try to get you to go with him?”

He nodded. “But I told him—”

“You should have gone with him.” Frank froze. He couldn’t have heard him right. “I mean it,” the angel said, “your soul is as much a part of Gerard’s as it is a part of yourself. You stay here, and your soul will fester and rot without him. At least there, the fucker will keep you alive.”

“But he’s a demon—” Frank started.

“He’s half of you,” Ray said simply.

He swallowed heavily. He didn’t know what to think, what to believe anymore. There seemed to be nothing ahead of him but more suffering and more loneliness. Ray let go of his hand and made a move toward the door.

“It’s up to you, Frank,” he said sadly.

“Will you stay with me?” Frank asked, not ashamed of his neediness.

Ray considered for a moment before nodding and lying behind Frank, his arm wrapped around his slim waist, his wings tucked under and over Frank like a cocoon. Frank heard his mother’s singing in his head, sweet and pure like spring water. “If you’d like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar—”

When he awoke, the knife lay next to his hand, and Ray was gone. He could reach his fingers a few inches forward, and he could easily grab the hilt. It was sharp, of that Frank was sure. It would take but the lightest pressure for him to run it down the vein of his wrist.

He absently wondered what dying a second time would be like. The first time had been peaceful and calm, like he was going home. Before he had time to process what he was doing, he clenched a hand around the hilt and dragged the blade along his wrist to break the bandages. Underneath were scars. Perfectly straight scars that Ray had made to bring him up and up to a place where he would see his mother again, where there would be no more tears, and life would seem but a dream. He cut the bandage from the other arm, accidentally nicking the skin. A drop of blood from his arm dripped onto the pure white bedspread, and he had the sudden desire to make everything red. Red like the stain on the floor, like that apple, like the blood under his skin.

He acted on this urge and drew the blade down the vein he knew would drain the most blood. He watched in fascination as the blood poured like a fountain out of him, onto the bed and onto the floor. His bleeding arm was starting to lose feeling, so he quickly took his hand and slit the other wrist before he became too weak.

Dying, this time, was not like rising in peace, wrapped in soft wings, it was falling, plummeting. It burned like fire, like acid, like a thousand pinpricks of needles. He was screaming, screaming before he even hit solid ground.

When he did, it took him several long minutes to stand up. His legs felt weak and heavy, but his mind felt lucid in a way it hadn’t since he first entered Purgatory. He looked around.

Red. Everything was red. Red dirt, red sky, red eyes surrounding him, watching him.

Looking closer, he saw that they were demons, hundreds of feral, wild demons that licked their lips as they saw Frank. One began to advance quickly toward him, but another demon pushed him of the way to get to him first, and suddenly a fight seemed to break out between them.

Frank took the opportunity to run as fast as his weak and aching feet would carry him, but dozens of demons were right on his trail, some running on two legs, some on four. They were gaining on him. Fast.

Frank knew he couldn’t really die forever here, but that didn’t mean he felt like getting his soul ripped out by a hundred nasty demons only to wake again the next day to repeat the process.

He felt the ground tremble as something large and powerful landed on the ground behind his retreating back. He turned to see black wings rising from the small crater he’d just made in the hard-packed dirt. The other demons stopped short at the sight of him, like they were angry yet afraid.

The winged-creature turned to look at Frank. It was Gerard, but he looked different. His face was drawn and pale, and when Frank looked closely enough, he saw that he was shaking like a drug addict going through withdrawals.

“Get down,” he said simply, and since Frank wasn’t really in a position to argue, he did what he'd asked, lying on the ground with his hands over his head like he’d done during the tornado drills at school.

A black light began growing brighter and brighter around Gerard, and the air felt electric. Power coursed off him in waves as he raised his arms as if gathering some force of demon energy to himself. Suddenly he clapped his hands together and released a beam of energy forward to consume the demons who had been chasing Frank. He covered his head and didn’t open his eyes until he felt a hand touch his clothed shoulder. He was still wearing the white t-shirt and white linen pants that he had worn in the white room. They were soaked in blood, and he realized how out-of-place he must have look in hell where most of the demons were dressed in black shreds if they were dressed at all. 

Gerard was wrapping a careful arm underneath Frank’s knees and another across his shoulders, lifting him up like he weighed nothing. Frank leaned his head against Gerard’s chest, trying not to touch his skin, not sure what would happen if he did.

The demon took off, launching himself and Frank into the air. He looked down to see the carnage below him. Over a hundred demons lay lifeless by Gerard’s hands. Frank forced himself to relax. If Gerard wanted to kill him like he had those demons, he would have done it by now. Gerard flew them over various terrains ranging from hilly to wooded, but red, always red.

They stopped in front of a large mansion, like what you’d see in gothic stories of monsters and vampires, decorated with ancient architecture and colored an ominous grey. A looming set of stairs led up to the mansion’s front door.

Gerard flew to the top to set Frank in front of the wide, wooden doors, etched with forms of gargoyles and demons and all manner of screaming things meant to unsettle any intruder, Frank supposed. The door was unlocked, because who would actually bother to lock their doors in hell anyway? Gerard beckoned him to come inside.

Frank stepped in after the demon. Inside was huge as well. The entrance hall alone was wide and vast, a chandelier hanging above. Ornate furniture and elaborate rugs covered every surface. It smelled old, like no breeze had passed through in a thousand years.

It probably hadn’t, Frank thought.

Gerard was staring at him intently, and Frank looked up to see that he looked tired, really, really tired. He was weakened, of that Frank was certain, and he looked on the verge of collapse. He staggered forward, and Frank instinctively reached to steady him, his hand accidentally brushing the bare skin of the demon's arm.

Both froze.

Frank didn’t feel anything unusual so much as he felt Gerard feel something. Gerard felt like lightning was flowing through him, sparking him alive with a red hot electricity. Frank met his eyes, hesitantly. Gerard was already standing up straighter, as if even a moment’s contact with Frank’s skin had started to heal him.

Frank moved toward him, but the demon backed away.

“I’m not sure--I can,” he said, sounding pained. “I’m not sure I can stop if you let me touch you.” His hand was shaking with want and need and what seemed like an inner battle to control his urges. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, running a hand through his hair and laughing humorlessly. “Frank, if you could only see how you look down here in hell. How you look to those demons. How you look to me." His eyes burned into Frank. "Fuck. Why did I think this was a good idea?”


End file.
